


Defending the Dark

by CeceLouise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Courtroom Drama, F/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-02-26 23:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 46,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeceLouise/pseuds/CeceLouise
Summary: Three years after Voldemort’s defeat, Hermione Granger is a Ministry-appointed Defense Inquisitor. Her next assignment: defend Draco Malfoy. She’s sure there must be some mistake. Confronted with mysterious memories, candid conversations, and confusing feelings, she is plagued with uncertainty. Just who is Draco Malfoy? And does he deserve a second chance?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. This is just me having fun in her world. The only thing I own are any original characters and plot elements that I have developed.

". . . Miss Hermione Granger!"

At the sound of her name being called, Hermione broke from her nervous reverie.

Here it was, the moment she'd been waiting for. Now was finally her chance to face the Wizengamot and share everything she thought about the man standing trial today.

She stood up on shaky legs, attempting to look confident as she made her way to the stand, ignoring the whispers and murmurs of the crowd.

She kept her eyes straight ahead, avoiding his gaze, afraid she would come undone if she looked at him. She could feel his cool gray eyes watching her.

"Miss Granger," the Inquisitor said, "could you tell me a little about your history with Draco Malfoy?"


	2. Unexpected Events

_4 MONTHS EARLIER_

Hermione Granger entered her gloomy office and sat at her desk with a sigh. Her head throbbed and she felt drained from her extensive morning trial.

As a Ministry-appointed Defense Inquisitor, she was no stranger to long, stressful days in court. Having been a Defense Inquisitor for the Wizengamot for almost a year now, she'd seen her share of taxing trials. They always took a lot out of her, and today's had been no exception.

Hermione had accepted her job with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement straight out of Hogwarts, hoping it would allow her to give a voice to the unheard and mistreated, especially house-elves. However, the influx of dark wizards being arrested and prosecuted after the downfall of Voldemort meant she actually spent most of her time defending Death Eaters. The irony of the situation was not lost upon her.

Hermione freed her hair from the large clip that had held it hostage all morning. Her long chestnut mane fell down her back in smooth strands. She always took the time to tame her disobedient hair with lots of Sleekeazy when she appeared in court. Although Hermione had come to appreciate her unruly curls, she'd discovered that some Prosecuting Inquisitors wouldn't fail to stoop so low as to attack her appearance to, in turn, attack her credibility.

The tight updo she'd worn, as well as her morning court case, had caused a dull throbbing to form at the base of her skull. Hermione ran her hands through her now-freed hair and massaged the back of her neck to help ease the tension. The painful ache lessened but did not subside completely.

Hermione sighed again and pulled her lunch from her desk drawer. After unwrapping her sandwich, she grabbed a large gray folder from her desk. Her next assignment. It was no doubt placed there by the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, himself.

As she took a bite of food, she hoped her next case would be less trying than her last, or at least less hostile.

Opening the folder, she froze when she read the name and saw the picture of her assigned client.

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

She blinked a few times. Surely, her mind was playing tricks on her.

But no, what the words suggested, the picture confirmed. In the moving photograph, a very disgruntled Draco Malfoy glared back at her, dressed in a gray Azkaban uniform, holding a placard with his name and prisoner identification number on it. Picture Draco turned to each side, then the front again, on a horrible unending loop.

Hermione slammed the folder shut and leaned back in her chair, placing a hand over her eyes.

This must be a mistake. I couldn't possibly be representing him.

Hermione had never represented anyone she'd known personally before. A few parents of classmates from Hogwarts, but never anyone she knew directly.

Draco Malfoy was an entirely different story. Not only did she know him, but they also had a very tumultuous history. He had bullied her and her friends most of her time in school, and played an instrumental role in the death of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts's headmaster.

As if those weren't enough for Hermione to loath the thought of seeing Draco Malfoy again, there was also the fact that he had identified her, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, to his family a few years ago when she, Harry, and Ron had been taken to Malfoy Manor by Snatchers.

Draco's insane aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, had tortured Hermione right there on the drawing room floor while Draco and his parents stood by and watched. And now she was supposed to defend the man? The thought made her blood boil.

Hermione opened the folder again, then examined the picture of her old nemesis. She took a small delight in the fact that he was finally being held accountable for his misdeeds.

The last time Hermione had laid eyes on Draco Malfoy was after the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd seen him and his parents huddled together in the school after Voldemort's demise, looking fearful and out of place amidst the celebration and mourning.

Where they had gone after that, Hermione had no idea. Days later, warrants were issued for Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy's arrests and the entire family had vanished. No doubt they had used their wealth and what was left of their influence to flee and hide like the cowards they were.

They remained hidden for three years, and Hermione rarely thought of the horrible family, until a few months ago, when The Daily Prophet reported they'd all been arrested in France.

Lucius Malfoy had been swiftly tried for his crimes, earning a life sentence in Azkaban. A few days ago, Narcissa Malfoy's trial had begun, but Hermione had yet to learn the outcome.

Draco Malfoy was being held in Azkaban since the family's arrests and now, apparently, was about to begin his trial process. Hermione looked at his picture again. He looked eerily similar to the vile boy she'd known at Hogwarts, with a few key differences.

The first was that he no longer looked like a boy but more of a man. His cheekbones and jaw were more defined, and the pointed angles of his face looked less ferrety and more masculine.

Second, his hair was not slicked back in the insufferable fashion it had been through most of their school years. Instead, it hung pale and straight across his forehead, just above his cold gray eyes.

And finally, the third distinction was in those eyes themselves. They still looked angry and hateful like she remembered, but the familiar condescension was gone. Instead, it was replaced with fear.

_Good. He knows he's about to get life in Azkaban and he's terrified._

Hermione tore her gaze from the picture to take in the other key details of the lengthy file.

_Draco Malfoy . . . age twenty . . . former student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . never graduated. Charged with three counts of conspiracy to murder . . . two counts of the use of the Cruciatus Curse . . . two counts of the use of the Imperius Curse . . . three counts of aiding and abetting kidnapping . . . one count of reckless endangerment._

_They forgot a thousand counts of being an obnoxious git_ , Hermione thought, continuing to read the details.

_Although the accused was a minor at the time of these infractions, due to their serious nature, and the years the defendant spent evading the law, the defendant will be charged as an adult._

Hermione felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Draco Malfoy wasn't going to be getting special treatment, that was certain. Even if some of his charges were reduced, his future would still be bleak. He couldn't use his family name to get him out of this mess.

 _He did always want to be like his father_ , she thought bitterly. _Now he can share his fate._

Hermione continued rifling through the file for a few more minutes, then shut it. On the front, she saw a note attached in Shacklebolt's handwriting.

_Preliminary meeting with defendant set for 3 PM this afternoon._

Like most of her cases, she was to begin by meeting her client to get a better understanding of the case and establish a professional relationship.

Hermione picked the file up and left the room, making her way down the hall to Kingsley's office. She'd never refused to take on a case before, but there was a first time for everything.


	3. A Decision

Hermione's low heels clacked behind her as she headed toward Kingsley's office. When she arrived, she was greeted by his secretary sitting behind a large mahogany desk.

"Miss Granger," the petite blond said, flashing a beaming smile. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, Alice." Hermione forced herself to sound pleasant. "I need to see Minister Shacklebolt. It's urgent."

"Let me see . . . he has a meeting in twenty minutes. How long do you need?"

"I'll make it quick, I promise."

Alice nodded, then spoke into her wand. "Minister Shacklebolt, Hermione Granger is here to see you. She said it's urgent." She paused for a moment, listening to Shacklebolt's reply in her ear, then nodded to Hermione. "Go on."

Hermione smiled and thanked her, then opened the door to the Minister of Magic's office.

"Miss Granger." Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up and shook her hand, then gestured to the seat in front of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione sat down and placed the folder on his desk.

"It's about my next case, Minister." Hermione chose her words carefully, trying her best to maintain a professional demeanor. "I have some misgivings about my ability to be . . . impartial."

Shacklebolt picked up the file and opened it. "Ah, yes, Draco Malfoy. This has been a difficult case for me to assign." He perused the information, then looked at her. "I can understand your hesitation in taking this assignment on, Miss Granger."

Hermione's shoulders relaxed. "Given my history with the defendant, I feel it would be unwise for me to represent him."

Shacklebolt sighed and put the file back on his desk. "I understand. Although, to be frank with you, I think you are the best person to handle it."

"You do? Why?"

"The Malfoy family has a long history in the wizarding world, Miss Granger. As you know, Lucius Malfoy held a high position at the Ministry for quite a few years. He made many enemies . . . and allies. From what I've heard, his son is not much different." He paused. "All my other Defense Inquisitors have an association with the Malfoy family—unpleasant or otherwise—making it unwise for me to have them represent Draco Malfoy. Try as I might, the Ministry is still not without its share of corruption."

Hermione took this all in. "I understand, Minister . . . but I also have an unpleasant history with the Malfoy family."

"I know you do. But I also know you to be the most ethical Inquisitor in my department. I trust that, regardless of your personal feelings, you will be well equipped to handle Mr. Malfoy's case fairly and impartially. That is why I ultimately chose you."

Hermione was torn between feeling flattered at the Minister of Magic's high opinion of her and dismayed by what he was asking her to do.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "I kept this case unfilled for so long because I was unsure of whom to assign. However, when I had a request for you to be the defending Inquisitor, I realized that was the best course of action."

"A request?" Hermione was flabbergasted. Had Draco Malfoy specifically asked for her to represent him?

That seemed absurd. She couldn't imagine Malfoy wanting her to represent him any more than she did. Although, she wondered if he thought she would be easy to manipulate. No doubt he had some slimy, underhanded idea about how to get himself off the hook. The thought angered her more.

"I do know," Shacklebolt continued, "of Mr. Malfoy's unpleasant treatment toward you during your time at Hogwarts. And, of course, his role in Dumbledore's death is obviously a sensitive topic. However, if there is anything else that I'm unaware of that would make it unethical for you to represent Mr. Malfoy, let me know, and I will try to reassign his case."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. Her torture at Malfoy Manor by Bellatrix Lestrange was not public knowledge. Because Bellatrix had been killed by Mrs. Weasley at the Battle of Hogwarts, there'd been no need for Hermione to make the situation known. Bellatrix hadn't lived to face a trial.

Hermione had decided to keep the incident private, requesting Harry and Ron do the same. She had no intention of sharing that horrible experience in interviews, which she'd had many of after the war.

What happened to her at the Manor still haunted her nightmares, and Hermione had resolved to put it behind her as much as possible. Although she knew she could trust Shacklebolt with his discretion, she still didn't want to talk about it with him.

She also thought about the impact Draco Malfoy had on her life. How his treatment of her in school had shaped much of her thoughts of herself in her younger years. How she always strove to prove herself to be smart and talented. How deep down she wondered if she wasn't deserving of her magic. She knew it was foolish, but at times, she still battled with that self-doubt.

Was now her chance to show, for once and for all, that she was better than Draco Malfoy? By handling his case maturely and fairly, could she finally prove to herself that his words had no hold over her?

She also thought about what could happen if she refused his case. Who would Malfoy be given as an Inquisitor? One of her corrupt colleagues who could be paid off to use underhanded techniques to help Malfoy gain his freedom even if he didn't deserve it?

Suddenly, her choice seemed clear. By taking on his case herself, Hermione could be sure Draco Malfoy was held accountable for his crimes.

She could do it. After all, she was Hermione Granger. She helped bring down Voldemort. Surely, she could handle defending a spoiled brat like Draco Malfoy.

Hermione took a deep breath. "You're right, Minister. I can handle Mr. Malfoy's case with integrity. If you think I'm the right person for the case, then I will do my best to prove you correct."

"Excellent, Miss Granger. I have every confidence in you."

Hermione shook Shacklebolt's hand, then headed back to her office with new resolve. She had work to do before her three o'clock meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you're enjoying the story so far! Don't worry, we get to see Draco in the next chapter.


	4. The Meeting

Draco Malfoy stared at the blank brick wall in front of him. Time had ceased to matter.

He'd only spent a few months in this gray, hopeless cell of Azkaban, but it felt like a lifetime.

The days blended together, his mind tortured from disuse. Thinking was the only thing he could do to pass the time, but his thoughts were so morbid, he spent hours trying to quiet them.

Was this how he'd live out the remainder of his life? He wasn't even twenty-one years old and it seemed like his life was over.

He thought of his father, who'd recently been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Even he had too many valuable years left to spend them rotting away in a place like this.

Draco's mind then turned to his mother, whose own trial had begun only days ago. He hoped she would not be forced to share the same fate as his father, and likely, himself.

Draco prayed the hate against his family wouldn't be strong enough to put his mother behind bars. She was innocent, he knew this for a fact. Although Narcissa Malfoy had stood by and watched for years as Lucius Malfoy climbed the ladder of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, Draco's mother had never become a Death Eater herself or personally committed any crimes.

Unfortunately, Draco was not so lucky. His blind admiration for his father had caused him to be only too eager to follow in his footsteps. A price he was likely going to pay, slowly and agonizingly, for the rest of his life.

A sharp knock on the door of his cell, followed by it being unlocked, broke Draco from his stupor.

"You!" A guard gestured for him to get on his feet. "You've got a meeting with your defense."

Draco sighed and stood up, depressingly grateful for a chance to escape his miserable cell for a little while.

_So it begins._

He followed the guard down the long, gloomy hall to meet his Ministry-appointed Defense Inquisitor.

* * *

Hermione followed a rigid guard down the gray stone halls of Azkaban. Although Dementors no longer guarded the place, the air hung heavy with despair.

The guard opened a door, revealing a small room with a table flanked by two chairs facing each other. At the far side of the room was another door with a large window, designed for the guards to keep watch but still allowing her some privacy with her clients. The rest of the room was barren.

Before entering, Hermione handed the guard her wand so he could perform the spell that would allow only her to do magic with it. It was a practice she was used to, designed to keep her safe from the prisoners she met with should they gain ahold of her wand.

The guard handed it back and allowed her to enter. Hermione sat down in the chair facing the door across the room. She spread her files on the desk, then laid down fresh quill and parchment.

She was going through the same motions she always did when she met a client. However, this meeting felt nothing like the scores of others she'd had before. She swept her still-straight hair over her shoulder and attempted to calm her racing mind.

_Be professional_ , she reminded herself for the hundredth time.  _Do not let him antagonize you._

The door opened and Draco Malfoy stepped in, looking much like the picture in his file. He was dressed in the same gray prison suit, and his face wore the same sour expression.

Hermione went back to busying herself with her notes, although she'd finished organizing them ages ago.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she said, gesturing toward the chair across from her. "Have a seat and we can begin."

As Draco Malfoy sat down, his eyes raked over her, then darkened as recognition set in. He cursed loudly. "You've got to be kidding me!  _You're_  my Inquisitor? Is this some kind of joke?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes but attempted to maintain a professional façade. "I'm Hermione Granger, your Ministry-appointed Defense Inquisitor for your upcoming trial. Now, if you'll—"

He swore again. "I know who you are, Granger! What I want to know is what you're doing here." He sneered. "Shouldn't you be boring some first-years to death being the next McGonagall of Hogwarts? Or at home knitting jumpers for your six Weasel offspring?"

"I'm not here to talk about my life, Mr. Malfoy, I'm here to talk about yours." She glanced down at her files. "Tell me, what are—"

"Mr. Malfoy?" He raised an eyebrow. "I see you've finally learned how to address your superiors, but—"

"Listen, Malfoy"—Hermione rolled her eyes—"I'm not interested in your childish insults. I have a job to do, and if you know what's good for you, you'll cooperate. I'm not the one looking at a lifetime in Azkaban."

Draco's eyes darkened and he set his jaw firmly. "Whatever job you've come to do, you can forget it. Under no circumstances will  _you_  be representing me in court." He stood up and walked toward the door.

"Fine." Hermione released a frustrated breath, then began packing her papers up. "You can process a request for a new Inquisitor with the Ministry. You should hear back in six to eight weeks."

"Why did you even come here?" he demanded, turning to face her.

"It was my assignment." She snapped her briefcase shut.

"And I bet you just jumped at the chance," he muttered bitterly.

"Excuse me?" She looked up at him, her anger rising.

"Come on, Granger! You'd love nothing more than to see me locked up for the rest of my life. You really think I'd let you  _defend_  me? Some defense that would be!"

"Believe it or not, Malfoy, I don't let my emotions dictate my work. I would plead your case honestly like I do with any of my clients." She strode over to him, pointing a finger at his chest. "Unlike you, I have a conscience."

He glared at her with stormy gray eyes, then pushed her hand away. "Save your morality speeches, Granger. I know you'd love to see me burn."

"If that's how you feel, why did you request for me to be your Defense Inquisitor?"

"What? I did not! I'm not suicidal."

"Minister Shacklebolt said you did."

"That loon? He's clearly mistaken." He knocked on the door for the guard to open it, then sneered at her. "I'd rather have no Inquisitor than one as worthless as you."

The guard opened the door and Draco pushed through it, leaving Hermione glaring after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review and let me know what you think so far! I absolutely love reading your reviews and respond to all of them. I plan on updating this story weekly, so be sure to follow if you're enjoying it.
> 
> If you haven't already, check out my other Dramione story, "If Only in My Dreams," which you can find on my profile.
> 
> I have some other fun stuff in the works, including an original novel coming out on Amazon this summer!
> 
> Until next week!
> 
> -Cece Louise


	5. Dire Circumstances

An hour later, Draco sat in his cell, still fuming over the events of that afternoon.

_Goody-goody Granger? That's the best the Ministry could come up with for my defense?_

Draco knew the Ministry had been corrupt during his father's time, but it obviously hadn't changed. Now it was just corrupt in the opposite direction.

Clearly, the Ministry was so convinced of his guilt, they weren't even going to attempt to give him a fair trial.

He could just see the courtroom now.

"Why no, Minister," he pictured Granger saying in her snotty know-it-all voice, "I don't believe Mr. Malfoy is a danger to the whole of wizarding society. Just Muggle-borns, Squibs, Muggles, and house-elves. Here, I've drawn up a chart in chronological order of all his misdeeds, starting with the first time he called me a Mudblood." The crowd would ooh-and-aah over her thoroughness.

Draco ran a rough hand through his unkempt hair. It was getting longer and more ragged every day, annoying him to no end. He felt the walls of his cell closing in on him, tormenting him with the urge to be in a larger space.

Six to eight weeks before he could even get a new Defense Inquisitor. A new Inquisitor who would likely be as much of a joke as his last one.

More time in Azkaban seemed unbearable, but six to eight weeks was merely a drop in the ocean compared to the amount of time he likely had left there.

He couldn't think about that. Unwittingly, his thoughts went back to Hermione Granger. What was she doing now? Walking outside in the sunshine? Enjoying the smell of fresh air? Was the wind blowing through her hair?

Ironically, his thoughts veered. What happened to her hair _?_  It had been straight when he saw her this afternoon. He almost didn't recognize her at first. Maybe she'd finally had enough of that bushy rat's nest of a mane she called hair at Hogwarts. Besides that, she looked mostly the same as he remembered.

The last time he'd seen her had been after the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd looked battered and tired, but somehow, remarkably vibrant.

He was sitting in the corner with his parents after Voldemort's defeat, mostly being ignored by everyone. Almost every person he saw seemed relieved, and Draco had been too, but he also knew a new set of problems was coming for him and his family.

After all, they weren't really on the winning side. Sure, his mother had helped save Potter and that would count for something, but would it be enough? For her, maybe, but not for Draco or his father.

So, he and his parents had left Hogwarts quietly and gone into hiding the next day. They evaded capture and lived a free, albeit stifled, life until a few months ago. They'd gone to one of the Malfoy estates in France to collect money and valuables so they could continue to live, only to be arrested by Aurors almost immediately upon arriving.

"Visitor!" A gruff voice and sharp knock on his cell door broke Draco from his memories.

Who could possibly be visiting him? His thoughts went to Granger, but he quickly dismissed them. She didn't want to see him anymore than he wanted to see her. She wouldn't be back. He'd made sure of that by what he'd said to her.

Draco followed the guard to the same room he'd met Granger in earlier and saw his mother sitting at the table.

As soon as he entered, Narcissa Malfoy rushed to his side and grasped him in a firm hug.

"Draco, darling!" She sounded pained. It was an overly emotional display for her, but the situation being what it was, Draco assumed she was not thinking much of social convention.

"Mother." Draco returned her embrace wholeheartedly. He was starved for company and had missed her. "How are you?"

"My charges have been cleared." She smiled but there were tears in her eyes.

"Good. I knew they would be—you never hurt anyone." Draco returned her smile. Even though he knew he wouldn't be so lucky should his case ever make it to trial, he was relieved his mother would have her freedom.

"So, how did your meeting with your Defense Inquisitor go?" Narcissa asked.

"How did you know about that?" Draco eyed her as they both sat down.

"I requested it." She sniffed. "It's atrocious how long you've been sitting in here waiting for a trial."

Draco groaned. "Even if I get a trial, it's not going to do me much good. Besides, I need to be assigned a new Inquisitor. The one they sent was a farce."

"Who did they send? I specifically asked for that Granger girl!"

" _You_  requested her? Why would you do that?"

His mother spread her palms. "She's the best. Of all the Ministry's Inquisitors, she's won the most cases. In fact, she got Mrs. Parkinson's charges cleared by proving her husband was forcing her to act alongside him. Poppy's followed her trials ever since and said the girl is a real genius."

"She hates me, Mother!" Draco threw his hands in the air. "You know that! She hates our whole family and has every right to. Don't you remember what Bellatrix did to her at the Manor? Hermione Granger's not about to turn around and start proclaiming my innocence!"

" _You_ didn't torture her." Narcissa waved her hand. "Besides, all the other Inquisitors have grudges against your father. They'd be much more likely to have it out for you. The Granger girl is Muggle-born, so she doesn't have those kinds of ties to us. She's the best option."

"Mother, I don't think you understand. I was terrible to her at Hogwarts—and her friends. There's no way she could be impartial."

Narcissa shook her head. "Poppy assured me. The girl has integrity and a strict moral code. Apparently, she joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to free house-elves. Can you imagine? That girl is a bleeding heart."

"It doesn't matter! I'm not—"

"I don't care what you have to do. Make her feel sorry for you. Seduce her, for all I care. Just get her to trust you, and she will plead your case."

"Mother, I—"

"Listen to me, Draco. I lost your father. I will not lose you too. Do you understand?"

Draco could see the desperation and fear in his mother's eyes, and he softened towards her. "All right." He sighed. "I'll try. But it might be too late. I already told her I didn't want her to be my Inquisitor."

Narcissa set her mouth in a firm line. "I'll take care of it. Just work with her. You can get out of here, I know you can."

Draco knew better than to argue with his mother when she was that determined. He sighed again and changed the subject. Like it or not, it looked like Hermione Granger was about to become his Defense Inquisitor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize this is such a short chapter. To make it up to you, I plan on posting again on Sunday. Hope you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing Narcissa in this story, so I hope you like this introduction to her. We will be seeing more of her.
> 
> Thanks for the kudo's last time! If you're enjoying this story, please drop a comment to let me know :) 
> 
> In other news, the Amazon pre-order page is up for my debut novel, Desperate Forest, so I'm super stoked about that! You can check it out by searching for me (Cece Louise) on Amazon, or "Desperate Forest" in the Kindle store. 
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Cece Louise


	6. A Mother's Love

Hermione was in her office filling out paperwork for the case she'd closed that morning. She rubbed her eyes wearily. As stressful as her morning in court had been, it was nothing compared to the afternoon she had.

What was she thinking? That she could actually represent Draco Malfoy? And defend him, no less? It was ridiculous.

She could just imagine Harry's and Ron's reactions.

Ron already hated the fact that Hermione now defended Death Eaters for a living. Usually when Hermione's work came up in a conversation, she and Ron had fierce fights. It was one of the reasons their romantic relationship fizzled out shortly after it began, and their friendship, although still intact, was a bit rocky.

Although Harry was usually more understanding about her job, Hermione knew even he would have a hard time swallowing the thought of her defending their old enemy.

Sure, she'd represented more despicable clients before—although she did think Malfoy was pretty despicable—but that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that she and Draco Malfoy couldn't stand to be in the same room as each other for more than thirty seconds.

_He hates me just as much as I hate him._

The venom of her thought surprised her a little. Did she really hate him? For many years, she'd never allowed herself to. But now?

She recalled their last encounter at school. It had been several hours before Dumbledore was killed. Hermione was feverishly searching through old copies of  _The_   _Daily Prophet_  in the Hogwarts library, looking for any snippets of information she could find to solve who the "Prince" was in Harry's Potions book that had caused so much trouble.

The spot where she was working was highly secluded—not many students had reason to be looking through decades-old copies of the  _Prophet._  She returned another stack to its rightful spot, sighing because they had given her no leads.

She moved into the next aisle but stopped and gasped loudly upon seeing a lone figure sitting on the ground against the wall, head in his hands, elbows propped up on his knees.

Immediately, the boy's head shot up, his bloodshot gaze meeting her own.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, recognizing his pale face and blond head even in the shadows. "You scared me."

"Good," he jeered. "I should."

Ignoring his usual bad manners, she carefully analyzed his face. His cheeks were sallow, and his eyes looked haunted and tired with dark smudges beneath them.

"Are you all right?" she asked carefully. Although he'd only recently been released from the hospital ward after his duel with Harry, she had a feeling that wasn't the reason he looked so terrible.

Draco swore loudly and glared at her, rising to his feet. "I'm not one of your pathetic sob cases, Granger! Can't you ever mind your own business?!"

"It's just . . ." She swallowed, then thought better of pressing him about what was troubling him. "I'm glad you're okay after what happened with Harry. He shouldn't have—"

"Please! As if you care . . ." His voice was laced with bitterness. "You hate me."

"I don't hate you, Malfoy."

Surprise flashed in Draco's eyes, followed by a trace of sadness, but both were quickly masked by ice.

"You will," he said and pushed past her, knocking her shoulder with his arm before disappearing in the dark stacks.

Hermione banished the troubling memory from her mind. She'd already spent many hours after Dumbledore's death wondering if she could have said or done something to change Malfoy's mind about what he'd been about to do. There was no use torturing herself over it anymore.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was almost five o'clock. She began cleaning up her files.

By the time Hermione had returned from meeting Malfoy today, Minister Shacklebolt had already left his office. Begrudgingly, she'd resigned herself to waiting until tomorrow to tell him Draco Malfoy would need a new Inquisitor. She wanted to be rid of this situation as quickly as possible.

Hermione was preparing to go home, when a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," she said, turning from her filing cabinet. She hoped it was Shacklebolt stopping back in to check how her meeting with Malfoy had gone.

The door opened and Narcissa Malfoy entered. She surveyed the room with cool eyes before her gaze settled on Hermione herself. "Hello, Miss Granger, may I have a word with you?"

Hermione was shocked to see the stately woman. She had only seen Narcissa Malfoy a handful of times, but she looked just like Hermione remembered. Her streaked platinum-and-black hair was perfectly in place, and her dark eyes showed little emotion. She stood tall and proud, certainly a Malfoy.

"I suppose . . . for a moment," Hermione said reluctantly. "I was just about to leave for the day."

Narcissa sank stiffly into a chair and nodded. "I won't keep you long."

"What can I help you with, Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione sat across from her, knowing far too well that Narcissa's visit had something to do with Hermione's meeting with Draco earlier. Hermione had half a mind to tell the prim woman off for raising such a horrible son.

"I understand you've been selected to represent Draco in court."

 _Here it comes_.  _Disparaging remarks about my heritage and how I'm not fit to breathe the same air as the precious Malfoys._

"That was the case," Hermione said, smoothing her skirt. "However, due to my recent conversation with your son, we've both agreed it would be better if someone else were to represent him."

"I see . . . Well, I'd like to ask you to reconsider."

"Really?" That was not the response Hermione expected. "And why is that?"

"Miss Granger, as I'm sure you're well aware, the Ministry's pool of Inquisitors is . . . unethical, to say the least."

Hermione grimaced at her words, knowing they were true. Changes had been made at the Ministry, yes, but they certainly weren't changes that would favor the Malfoy family.

Narcissa continued. "As you can imagine, my husband's . . . history . . . left us with many enemies. There isn't one Inquisitor that I trust to justly defend my son . . . besides you."

Hermione regarded the stoic woman carefully. She knew what Narcissa Malfoy was saying was likely accurate. After all, it mirrored what Shacklebolt had told her earlier that day. Hermione felt her conscience tug at her and mentally cursed, ultimately feeling like she had somehow drawn the short straw by being a decent person compared to her coworkers.

"While that may be true, Mrs. Malfoy—"

"Please, call me Narcissa."

Hermione paused. "While that may be true . . . Narcissa. I still don't think I'm the right person to defend your son. We have our own history that is less than pleasant. I'm sure another Inquisitor could be found to plead his case. Perhaps the one who represented you?"

"My case was unique, Miss Granger. I was fortunate enough to have Harry Potter himself as a witness. Even a poor defense couldn't keep me from being pardoned. Draco will not have it so easy, I fear."

Narcissa took a deep breath and spoke a little louder. "All I ask is that you consider representing Draco. I have lost my husband and most of my friends. I don't want to lose my son too."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Mal—Narcissa, I don't think your son wants me to represent him. He told me so himself today—not too kindly, I might add."

Narcissa shook her head. "I have since spoken with Draco, and he understands the circumstances better now. He will cooperate."

Hermione stood up, taking everything in. She had been so close to washing her hands of the situation—of the Malfoy family—did she really want to put herself through this?

Hermione brought a weary hand to her temple and rubbed it. "Even if I agree to do this, I can't guarantee Mal—Draco, won't be sentenced to Azkaban. You know as well as I, the things he's done . . . they don't exactly bode well for him."

Narcissa stood up too, eyeing her coldly. "I'm aware of his situation. However, I think, should you choose to take his case on, you will find things are not so black and white." She pulled her wand out. "I will ask one more thing of you."

Before Hermione had a chance to question what that might be, Narcissa Malfoy raised her wand to her temple and extracted a few silvery wisps, placing them into a small flask. She held it out to Hermione. "Look at these—they're my memories. Please don't make your decision until you've seen them."

With a hesitant hand, Hermione took the flask from the woman's pale fingers. "All right . . ." She was not at all eager to look inside the mind of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Thank you." Narcissa swept from the room, leaving a very perplexed Hermione behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the two most important women in Draco's life (he just doesn't know it yet) meeting again. The dorky part of me (which let's face it, is the biggest part of me) is incredibly pleased that I got this chapter up in time for Mother's Day because of the chapter title. Anyway, I will update again next week. The next chapter is a longer one, and we are going to get to see those memories Narcissa shared.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Don't be shy about commenting :)
> 
> In the world of Cece Louise, I got my author website up this week! You can check it out at www.cecelouise.com


	7. What Our Memories Allow

Hermione examined the flask in her hand, turning it over a few times. She was very curious what Narcissa Malfoy's memories held.

Memories played a very critical role in the world of magical law. Of course, there were certain precautions, rules, and considerations that came into play but, overall, memories could be very telling when trying to establish the innocence or guilt of an individual.

Hermione was no stranger to viewing and assessing people's memories. She was trained to tell the real from the fake, and she had developed somewhat of a thick skin over the past few years due to the things she'd seen.

Now, as she held the flask in her hand, she felt uncertain. She recalled how Narcissa Malfoy told her things weren't as black and white as she thought. Hermione wasn't sure she agreed.

She herself had been there for some of Draco Malfoy's crimes. She recalled how he had acted in their sixth year over the time he'd been plotting Dumbledore's murder. Sure, Harry confirmed that Draco hadn't gone through with it. He even suggested that Draco may have been acting under duress, but Hermione still wasn't convinced.

After all, Malfoy had spent months plotting the demise of another human being, injuring and almost killing others in the process. Who did that?

_No one innocent_  . . .

Hermione picked up her briefcase and left her office, but instead of heading toward the nearest Floo to go home, she climbed the stairs to the floor above her. To the Department of Mysteries where the Pensieves were kept.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she entered one of the many small rooms set up specifically for viewing memories. She closed the door before heading toward the shallow silver basin in the middle.

Hermione took a deep breath and uncorked the small flask. She hesitated, wondering if she should have someone with her as she viewed these memories. Just what was she about to see?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she dumped the contents of the flask into the basin and leaned over until she gently fell forward. She landed on her feet and looked around.

She was in a beautiful garden on a bright sunny day. The sun warmed her face, and the faint aroma of lilacs floated around her. Not far away, a younger Narcissa Malfoy reclined on a chaise lawn chair. Narcissa lay back elegantly, dressed in a soft flowing periwinkle dress. Hermione did a double take. She couldn't remember ever seeing Narcissa Malfoy wearing anything besides black.

A few feet in front of her, a small blond boy was laughing and running across the lawn, chasing a miniature broomstick as it flew around his head. Narcissa watched him lovingly, a serene smile on her face.

Intrigued, Hermione walked closer and examined the scene.

Without a doubt, the child she saw, probably no more than five years old, was a young Draco Malfoy. He had the same pointed face, pale skin, cool gray eyes, and platinum hair. She cringed, seeing the young child with his fine hair slicked back severely like she recalled Draco wearing it in their early years of Hogwarts.

_What is wrong with his parents?_   _Well, besides the obvious . . ._

However, the thing that struck her most was the look of pure innocence and joy on his face. It was completely foreign.

"Mummy! Look how high it is!" The boy pointed to the sky. "I'm going to fly that high, too!"

"Not until you're older, Draco," Narcissa said with a smile.

"When I'm bigger," the boy said decisively, "I'm going to fly as high as the moon. Or higher. Just like Father!" He took off, running in wild circles around his mother's chair.

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but smile. The child in front of her was adorable. She felt a painful tug at her heart as she remembered that this same sweet boy was destined to grow up to be the horrible, unfeeling man she'd seen today.

Even by the time she'd met Draco Malfoy, at the young age of eleven, the carefree innocence she saw now had already been squelched. When had it happened and how?

As if in answer to her question, a dark figure strode across the lawn.

"Father!" The little boy squealed and ran to him. Although Hermione knew she was in a memory and completely invisible to the new man entering the scene, she involuntarily shivered.

Lucius Malfoy walked toward her, looking just as cold and foreboding as she remembered him. He looked younger too but, besides that, did not seem different.

"Can we go flying, Father? On your broom?" The small version of Draco Malfoy asked, looking eagerly up at his father.

"Not now, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said evenly. "Perhaps after dinner, if you behave."

The child didn't seem perturbed by his response. Hermione wondered if he was used to it. "Okay, Father," he said, "I love flying! Can you take me on an  _air-row-plane_  sometime?" Round gray eyes looked up as the small child said the word "airplane" carefully.

"Where did you hear about that?" Lucius Malfoy demanded sharply and Narcissa's shoulders tensed.

"Thomas told me about them," young Draco replied matter-of-factly. "He said they fly in the sky like brooms, but they're so big they can carry a hundred people at a time!"

"Airplanes are for Muggles, not wizards!" Lucius grabbed his son's arm. "How many times have I told you that we don't concern ourselves with them?"

"Sorry, Father," the little boy mumbled, looking down at the ground.

"You will soon realize that the things in our world are far superior to anything you could find in the Muggle world, Draco."

"Yes, Father."

Seemingly satisfied, Lucius Malfoy released his son and walked toward Narcissa. "I don't want Draco socializing with Thomas Briggs again. Clearly, the Briggs family isn't fit for us to associate with."

"Very well," Narcissa said, almost as robotically as her son had.

"I just heard some important news, Cissa." Lucius's expression grew animated as he changed the subject. "Apparently, there has been word that the Dark Lord survived that fateful evening at the Potters'. That means . . ."

The world around Hermione shifted and the rest of Lucius Malfoy's words faded away.

Suddenly, Hermione found herself standing by a large mahogany dining table almost as long as the room itself. Three large crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

At the head of the table was Lucius Malfoy, and on his left side sat Narcissa, this time dressed in her familiar black. On Lucius's right was Draco Malfoy. He was still young, but older than he'd been in the last memory. In fact, he looked very much like he had when Hermione first met him.

"Draco, darling, it's so wonderful to have you back home for the summer," Narcissa said with a smile as she surveyed a large piece of parchment. "And your grades are wonderful! We're very proud of you."

Draco smirked self-appreciatively, looking exactly like the arrogant boy Hermione remembered. Narcissa passed the parchment to Lucius, who assessed it. His nostrils flared. "Who is this Hermione Granger? Friends with Harry Potter, isn't she?"

"Yes." Draco's expression darkened at the mention of Hermione's name and she barely heard him mumble something that sounded like "bushy-haired know-it-all."

"A Muggle-born, is she not?" Lucius stared coldly his son, who nodded. "And she made top of the class over you . . . Really, Draco, to allow yourself to be beaten by a Mudblood. I'm very disappointed."

Draco scowled. "She's impossible! She's always sucking up to the professors and practically lives in the library!"

"Well, you will need to apply yourself better your second year, won't you then, Son?" Lucius said the words quietly, but Hermione could sense an unspoken threat behind them.

"Yes, Father," Draco said, casting his gaze downward.

The scene shifted again. This time, only Narcissa was present in what looked like a quaint country cottage. Hermione heard shouts and cheering from outside the house.

The door opened and Lucius strode in. "Where's Draco?"

"He's celebrating with his friends," Narcissa said, and Hermione realized the commotion outside was the celebration after the Quidditch World Cup, placing this memory just before her fourth year.

"Some of the others are planning a . . . demonstration." Lucius's gaze shifted toward the door, perhaps worried about being overheard. "I want Draco to join us. He can see what it's like."

"He's just a boy!" Narcissa folded her arms. "Let him enjoy his time with his friends."

"He won't be a boy much longer, Narcissa! He needs to learn what is expected of him. It's happening . . . soon." Lucius dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "When the Dark Lord returns, he needs to know the Malfoy family has been loyal to him! If there is any doubt . . ."

"Let Draco be for tonight."

Lucius glared at her as he marched to the entrance of their cottage-tent. "Draco's time is coming, Narcissa! He will not disappoint me." He slammed the door.

Narcissa sighed and looked down at her hands. Hermione gazed at her, feeling sad, and the scene became slightly blurry, signifying a short passing of time.

The same door opened and Draco Malfoy rushed in, looking how Hermione remembered him from their fourth year.

"Where's Father?" he asked. "Goyle's parents said he was looking for me."

"Your father is taking care of something," Narcissa said, packing clothing into a leather bag.

"I know! Goyle's going with his father." Draco's eyes shone, and Hermione felt sickened by the excitement she saw there. "I want to go too."

"No!" Narcissa stuffed the remaining item in the bag. "You're staying with me. We'll meet your father after."

"I'm not a child, Mother! And Father wants me to come. How else am I supposed to show him that I'm ready?"

"You're not going and that's final! Now help me, we don't have much time." She handed Draco the bag, which he took begrudgingly and hoisted onto his shoulder.

A loud explosion followed by screams caused both mother and son to jump.

"Come on," Narcissa said.

The image shifted just slightly again, and Hermione found herself in a dark forest behind Draco and his mother walking with their wands alight. It was eerily familiar. She remembered racing through the same forest with Ron and Harry to escape the pandemonium at the World Cup.

"Your father asked us to meet him at the Portkey at the top of the hill," Narcissa said. "We'll need to leave quickly if the Ministry becomes involved."

"I should be with him," Draco grumbled.

Narcissa and Draco continued walking in silence. Suddenly, a yell close by made them both stop.

Not far off, Hermione heard her own young voice exclaim shrilly, "What happened?"

Draco's stare darted toward the trees. He stood there for a few moments, then pulled the bag off his shoulders and handed it to his mother. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

"Draco—" Narcissa protested, but he'd already disappeared through the thick trees. Narcissa and current-day Hermione hurried after him, then stopped when they saw him through a clearing, leaning against a tree, talking to fourth-year Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Ron shouted something rude to Draco, who replied calmly, "Language, Weasley. Hadn't you better be hurrying along." He gestured his pointy chin toward young Hermione. "You wouldn't like  _her_  spotted, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione heard her younger self demand.

Draco sighed as if it were obvious. "Granger, they're after  _Muggles_. Do you want to be showing your knickers off in midair? Because if you do, hang around . . . they're moving this way and it would give us all a laugh."

Hermione saw herself narrow her eyes at Malfoy, but before young Hermione had a chance to retort, Harry came to her defense. "Hermione's a witch!"

"Have it your way, Potter." Draco shot Harry a wicked smile. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" Ron yelled, lunging toward Malfoy.

"Never mind, Ron." Hermione grabbed his arm and sent Draco a scathing look.

A loud bang sounded close by, startling the three friends. Draco, somehow, seemed unfazed and laughed quietly. "Scare easily, don't they? I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to—trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where are your parents?" Harry shot back. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

"Well . . . if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" Draco grinned dangerously.

"Oh, come on," young Hermione said, shooting one more repulsed look at Draco. "Let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger!" Draco crossed his arms as he watched the trio walk away. When they were no longer in sight, he dropped his arms to his side, then turned back in the direction he'd come.

After taking a few steps, he stopped abruptly upon seeing Narcissa so close. "Mother, I—"

"So, that's the Granger girl," she said.

Draco clenched his jaw, pushing a leafy branch out of his path as he continued walking. "Idiots, all of them! Her stupid friends should've gotten her away sooner."

"Why is that?"

"Father hates her—he'd target her if he saw her."

"And you?"

"I don't—" His tense expression twisted into a scowl. "I don't really care!"

Narcissa opened her mouth to say something more but seemed to change her mind upon seeing her son's angry expression.

The scene shifted again, but Hermione almost didn't notice with the way her head was spinning in confusion. She remembered her, Harry's, and Ron's encounter with Malfoy that night quite distinctly, but this made her see it in a completely new light.

Had Malfoy been trying to  _warn_  her?

His malicious taunts were just as she recalled, but she remembered how his words that evening had made her fearful, causing her to pull Ron away abruptly. Had Malfoy actually done her a favor?

And what about the conversation she'd witnessed now between Draco and his mother after she, Harry, and Ron had left? Had Malfoy really been trying to protect her in his own strange way?

As she tried to process these questions, a new scene became clear. Hermione stood with Narcissa Malfoy outside a large mahogany door. Narcissa tapped lightly and opened it, revealing a spacious bedroom.

"Draco?" she said to her son, who was settled at a large window seat flanked by deep emerald curtains. In his lap was a large leather book that he shut hastily and shoved away from him.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked, scowling as he turned to look out the window.

Narcissa walked across the room and sat down on the other end of the window seat so she was facing her son.

"I came to see how you're feeling about tonight," she said gently.

"I feel fine." He lifted his chin. "Fantastic, in fact. Why wouldn't I?"

Hermione had no idea what they were talking about, but she could see that his shadowy eyes told a much different story than his words. He was clearly troubled. He furrowed his brow as his gaze darted from his mother's.

As Hermione assessed him further, she saw the beginnings of the changes in his face that she had noticed distinctly today—he was starting to change from a boy to a man, and she guessed this memory was somewhere around their sixth year.

"It's not too late, you know," Narcissa said, "I could talk to Severus—"

"What's Snape going to do? The Dark Lord's already decided that I'm ready."

"Are you sure you want to be one of them?"

"Of course." His voice was hard and arrogant. "I always knew I would be. It was just a matter of time."

"But—"

Draco stood up abruptly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go flying before it gets dark."

Narcissa watched her son leave the room, then pulled the book he had been reading into her lap. Curious, Hermione read the cover and saw that it was a Hogwarts yearbook. The date on it showed it was from their fifth year.

_"Revelio Visum."_ Narcissa tapped the yearbook with her wand. Hermione recognized the spell as one that would show what the previous reader had viewed. The book shot open in Narcissa's lap, pages fluttering wildly before settling. Hermione looked closer and saw two spots glowing bright red, reminding her much of a Muggle heatmap.

The first spot glowing was Draco Malfoy's picture with a caption underneath.

_Mighty is the man who upholds his family name — Salazar Slytherin._

An angry Draco Malfoy gazed stoically back at her, his mouth set in a firm line. He barely moved, just lifted his head slowly to jut out his chin as if challenging the world, folding his arms at his chest.

Hermione remembered viewing this picture and reading his quote one other time in her life. When she'd received her yearbook at the end of fifth year. She'd known exactly what it meant. Lucius Malfoy had just been arrested for the clash at the Department of Mysteries. Draco Malfoy had been announcing to the world that he was ready to step into his father's shoes and take his place.

When she'd first read it, she'd been disgusted but not surprised. Now, she felt an ache of sadness.

Tearing her eyes away from the picture of the hard boy, she did a double take when she saw where the other part of the page was glowing, even redder and more intense.

It was her.

Quite different from the picture of Draco, fifth-year Hermione looked up in the moving photograph and turned her head to the side, smiling brightly. She lifted a gentle hand to tuck one of her unruly curls behind her ears.

Underneath the photo was her own quote, which she remembered choosing proudly, considering what was going on in the wizarding world at the time. She'd been one of the few people at Hogwarts who had quoted a Muggle.

_How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world — Anne Frank._

The revelation perplexed her. Draco Malfoy had apparently read and re-read the quote enough times for it to have the bright heat revelation around the words, mere hours before he'd been expected to pledge his allegiance to Voldemort.

It could only mean one of two things. That he was having second thoughts about becoming a Death Eater, or he was so consumed by hate that he was relishing the thought of soon joining Voldemort's cause and ridding the world of people like her.

Narcissa Malfoy traced a delicate finger over the red outline of Hermione's picture and her quote, then closed the book with a sigh.

The memory faded away and Hermione felt a desperate longing to stay there and learn more. Had that been the night Draco Malfoy took the Dark Mark? And, if so, how had he really felt about doing it? But those questions were not to be revealed to her. Her vision cleared and she looked around.

She was at Malfoy Manor again, following Narcissa Malfoy as she led Fenrir Greyback, the Snatchers, Ron, Harry, and Hermione herself down a long hall she remembered too well. It looked the same, from the dim lighting to the dark décor.

Narcissa threw open a set of large doors, and the group entered a grand drawing room where Draco and his father sat around the fireplace.

It was that night. Hermione's breathing turned shallow and her ears roared as she looked upon the room, feeling a horrible sensation of déjà vu.

She couldn't watch this again. She couldn't relive it. But she was also too frozen to move, and so, the scene began to unfold before her.

The memory that had long haunted her nightmares was now playing again, from a slightly different view.

As the trio were dragged to the middle of the room, Hermione saw a look of horror cross Draco Malfoy's face as he recognized them. A look she had never noticed her first time there. His eyes lingered on memory-Hermione and he swallowed thickly, then averted his gaze.

"They say they've got Potter," Narcissa said. "Draco, come here."

Hesitantly, Draco walked toward his mother and the three prisoners. He stopped a considerable distance from them as Lucius Malfoy demanded, "Well, Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

"I can't—I can't be sure," Draco replied, sounding strained.

Lucius pressed a hand to Harry's distorted forehead and whispered, "There's something here . . . it could be the scar." He turned back to Draco. "Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

As Draco slowly walked closer, Lucius grabbed him by the back of his neck and forced him to look at Harry face-to-face. "Draco, if we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven . . ."

Draco regarded Harry for a few moments, then said, "I don't know." He wrested from his father's grasp and went to stand by his mother at the fireplace.

"We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa said. "If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing . . . Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"

"What about the Mudblood, then?" Fenrir Greyback pushed Hermione into the light.

"Wait—yes." Narcissa eyed Hermione. "Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

"I . . . maybe . . ." Draco's eyes didn't meet captive Hermione's, instead they shifted around the room until they met his mother's. ". . . yeah."

Hermione had already realized the first time she was here that Draco seemed reluctant to identify her, but she'd still felt angry when he had.

Now, she wondered if he'd only done it because she was apparently so easily recognized by his family—his father because of his hatred for her and his mother because of their encounter at the World Cup. If Draco hadn't admitted it was her, Lucius likely would have known he was lying about Harry.

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" Lucius's excitement was growing. "It's them, Potter's friends—Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name—?"

Draco had already turned his back to the three friends, but he mumbled, "Yeah, it could be."

Suddenly, the door crashed open and Bellatrix Lestrange strode into the room. "What is this? What's happened, Cissy?"

Hermione felt her blood run cold upon seeing the evil women again, seemingly alive, mere feet away. Hermione's hands began to shake, and her head spun. Before she could stop herself, she was stumbling backward, away from the memory. She felt a floating sensation as she left the scene behind and landed, feet first, on the Ministry floor.

Hermione's breathing was ragged, and she struggled to compose herself. Her terror was so extreme, she hadn't been able to finish watching the memory. With shaky hands, Hermione extracted the memories from the Pensieve, placing them back in the vial.

She didn't know what Narcissa had wanted her to see in that last memory, she only knew she couldn't finish viewing it. At least, not now, not alone.

She thought for a moment about taking it to Harry and having him view it with her, but she quickly realized she couldn't do that to him. She knew he and Ron were still haunted by hearing her screams above them while they were locked in the Malfoys' cellar.

She knew they both blamed themselves for not getting to her sooner and stopping her torture, which was ridiculous. They were not to blame. Only Bellatrix Lestrange—and the Malfoys and the Snatchers—were responsible for what happened to her that night. But she couldn't ask Harry to relive it with her.

Hermione pocketed the vial and left the room, heading toward the nearest Floo.

Except for the last memory that she hadn't been able to finish viewing, Hermione sensed a theme among the memories Narcissa Malfoy had shared.

In some way or another, they seemed to be designed to make Hermione feel sorry for Draco Malfoy. Also, some of the memories seemed to be related to Hermione herself. To show her . . . what exactly?

That Draco Malfoy didn't hate her? Hermione found it hard to believe. What was an act or two of consideration and hesitation compared to a lifetime of loathing and insults?

Did Narcissa think that by showing her these memories she would sway Hermione into wanting to help defend Draco Malfoy in court?

Hermione shook her head as she stepped into the fireplace and threw her Floo powder down. She didn't know what to make of everything she'd just seen, but she knew she had a lot to think about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you liked that chapter! If you have a moment, please drop a comment and let me know what you thought. Did you have a favorite memory?
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter (CeceLAuthor) or Facebook (CeceLouiseAuthor) for sneak peeks at chapters before I post them. Next chapter we get to see Draco and Hermione together again! If you can't find me, go to my website and use the links there (www.CeceLouise.com).


	8. Don't You Know?

Hermione barely slept at all that night, tossing and turning, reliving everything she'd seen in Narcissa Malfoy's memories. She wondered if Narcissa spent most of her nights as troubled as she was right now, haunted by those scenes from her past.

As Hermione drifted in and out of restless sleep, there was one overlying question nagging at her brain. Would she become Draco Malfoy's Defense Inquisitor?

Technically speaking, she still was his Ministry-appointed Inquisitor because Shacklebolt hadn't formally dismissed her from the case.

However, she remembered how adamantly she'd decided that she couldn't represent Draco Malfoy after her first meeting with him. Did she really want to put herself through such a horrible ordeal?

She also recalled how insistent Draco Malfoy had been about not wanting her to be his Inquisitor either. Narcissa claimed he'd changed his mind, but Hermione wasn't convinced.

Hermione thought back to the original reason she had become an Inquisitor—to help the defenseless. Although that wasn't exactly the word she would use to describe Draco Malfoy, she did realize that she was probably his only shot at a fair trial.

Yesterday, she had been more worried about the possibility of Malfoy using sneaky techniques to be pardoned. She hadn't really worried about him being unjustly convicted, believing him to be one hundred percent guilty. But now . . . the memories she'd seen jumbled in her mind until she could make no sense of them.

She thought back to all the cases she'd taken on since becoming an Inquisitor. While the majority of those she defended were guilty and deserving of a life sentence in Azkaban, Hermione had been relieved to find that there were a few Death Eaters who'd been threatened, blackmailed, or Imperiused into Voldemort's service.

She was grateful for those cases, rare as they were. Without them, she didn't think she'd be able to survive the countless hours doing what she did—trying to defend coldblooded killers who threw slurs at her while she attempted to work with them.

But just where did Draco Malfoy fit in? Who was he, really? The innocent boy she'd seen playing in the yard? The arrogant brat she'd seen at the dinner table? The conflicted teenager at the Quidditch World Cup? The hard young man she'd seen talking to his mother in his bedroom? Or the frightened one she'd seen that night at the Manor?

For as long as she'd known Draco Malfoy, he'd always been so unpleasant. Hermione wondered now if it was because he had some foresight that the life he'd chosen, the life his family had chosen, would lead him to where he was today—a cold cell in Azkaban, possibly forever.

As the first rays of sunlight peeked through her window, Hermione dragged her exhausted body out of bed. She mulled over what she should do all through her shower and after as she dried her hair and applied her light makeup.

Peering back at her tired face in the mirror, she was pleased to see her normal mess of curls back in their rightful place after succumbing to a half a bottle of Sleekeazy yesterday. Although she used to hate her hair, she appreciated it now. It was part of her. Without it, she didn't feel like herself.

As she stared back at the image she knew so well, she made her decision. Hermione Granger didn't take the easy way out. She didn't back down from a challenge, and she certainly didn't give up on someone who might be in need—no matter how undeserving he may be.

And so, as she Flooed to her office that morning, her mind was made up. She would take on Draco Malfoy's case, because if she didn't, her mind would never let her rest. She only hoped she wouldn't regret it.

* * *

Later that morning, Hermione once again found herself seated in the familiar meeting room of Azkaban, waiting on Draco Malfoy's arrival.

First thing that morning, she'd reviewed his file again and come up with a tentative plan for pursuing his defense—provided he cooperated with her, of course.

Hermione half-expected Narcissa to come to her office again and demand an answer about whether she would take on her son's case. However, she'd never shown up. Part of Hermione was disappointed because she wanted to ask Narcissa specifically about what the rest of the last memory contained, and what made it important enough for Narcissa to share it with her.

Although she was curious, Hermione still didn't feel like she had the courage to go into that memory again and see for herself.

Draco Malfoy opened the door across from her. Surprise flashed across his face, quickly masked with bored indifference.

"Back again, Granger?" He sank into the chair facing her. "Didn't have enough of my company yesterday?"

"Trust me," she said, "I've had enough of your company to last a lifetime. However, I had a visit from your mother."

Draco rubbed his brow and groaned. "What did she say to you?"

"Not much," Hermione answered honestly but decided not to tell him about the memories Narcissa had shared. She imagined Draco wouldn't be happy knowing everything she'd seen from his life. Hermione didn't even like that she'd seen what she had—it felt invasive. She didn't want to know Draco Malfoy that intimately, especially not against his will. "But she did explain to me about your family's situation . . . with the Ministry . . . and how you aren't likely to get a fair trial with another Inquisitor."

Draco scowled deeply. "So, you came back because your Gryffindor compassion wouldn't let you sleep at night if you turned me away. I don't need your pity, Granger!"

"I don't pity you, Malfoy." Hermione sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I think you probably deserve whatever is coming to you.  _But . . ._ I take my job seriously, and I was specifically requested by the Minister of Magic to handle your case to avoid more corruption in the system. That is something I feel very strongly about, and I think everyone deserves a fair trial. So, I promise to treat you impartially—despite our past—just like any of my other clients . . . if you'll let me."

Draco eyed her critically, as if mulling over her words. Just when Hermione felt she was going to cringe under his icy gaze, he sighed. "Fine. But let's get one thing straight—I don't trust you. My mother seems to think you're the only option, but if it were up to me, I wouldn't be agreeing to this." He crossed his arms as if he were hugely inconvenienced.

"Listen, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, feeling her anger rise. "Don't act like you're doing me some huge favor by 'letting me' represent you." She gestured towards the door behind him. "There are dozens of prisoners in there who've been waiting just as long as you to stand trial with no one to take their case. You step one toe out of line—like your little tirade yesterday—and I will gladly end this to help someone else. Got it?"

Draco didn't say anything but raised his jaw as he glared back at her.

Hermione took his silence as defeat and looked down at her papers. "Let me start by going over your charges with you."

"Wonderful," Draco muttered, shifting in his seat.

"This is what we are dealing with," she said, placing a sheet of parchment before him on the desk. His eyes flashed upward in surprise when she said the word 'we.'

Hermione tapped her finger on the paper. "The use of Unforgivables are going to give us a lot of trouble . . . but we'll get to that. The conspiracy to murder will probably be the crux of the case. Although Snape was the one to kill Dumbledore, the fact that you essentially orchestrated the events means the Prosecution is going to try to hold you accountable. It will also be messy because you let Death Eaters into the school, and Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley became victims of your . . . attempts."

"I'm aware of what I've done, Granger!" Draco pushed the paper toward her. "You don't need to try to sugarcoat it."

Hermione was pretty sure he was conspiring  _her_ murder right then. She cleared her throat. "Right. Well, I suggest we work backward. Take care of the lighter charges first . . . Aiding and abetting kidnapping—that will be Griphook, Luna Lovegood, and Garrick Ollivander. What can you tell me about your involvement with their abductions and your association with them at the Manor?"

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again and averted his eyes while running a hand through his hair. Hermione watched his odd actions, quill poised over her parchment. When he still didn't speak, she prodded him gently. "Well?"

He slammed a fist on the table. "I don't want to talk about this with you!" Now it was her turn to be speechless.

Draco dragged the palms of his hands down his face before bringing them together under his chin. "It's just . . . you're . . . you don't—you're Hermione-perfect-Granger! You don't belong here." He swept his hand across the room and looked away.

"Malfoy . . . Draco." She surprised herself by saying his name gently, and his stare shot back to hers. "I've been doing this for almost a year. I've seen and heard just about anything you can imagine. And"—she pushed her hair aside, revealing a long scar running down the side of her neck to her collarbone—"I've faced worse. I'm not going to break."

Draco stared transfixed at her scar, swallowing hard, perhaps remembering when Bellatrix had given it to her. Finally, he shifted his gaze. "I was at Hogwarts when Death Eaters brought the three of them to the Manor, so I had nothing to do with their abductions. But when I was home over the holidays, I was ordered to check on them and bring them food in the cellar."

Hermione made notes on her parchment. "Did you ever hurt them?"

"No."

"I'll contact them. See if they'll be willing to testify." Hermione reviewed Draco's charges. "What about the uses of the Cruciatus?"

Draco sighed. "Hawthorn Rowle and Antonin Dolohov. Both convicted Death Eaters—in here now. Voldemort made me torture them after they failed to capture Potter in London."

"If they've been convicted, I don't think they'll be testifying against you."

Draco nodded grimly.

Hermione looked up from her notes. "When you say . . . Voldemort  _made_  you torture them, what do you mean, exactly?"

"He didn't Imperio me into it if that's what you're wondering," he said flatly.

"No . . . I mean, did you have a choice?"

"There was always a choice, Granger. It was simple—do what he said or be killed."

"Did you want to do it? Did you enjoy torturing people?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Draco was silent for a long time as he stared off into the distance, and Hermione dreaded his answer.

"I thought I would . . . before," he finally said, still not looking at her. "When my father talked about it, he made it sound so great. 'The power you'll feel,' he'd say. But no . . ." He turned his stormy eyes to hers and practically spat the next words. "I didn't  _enjoy_  it. I hated it."

Hermione swallowed but was relieved by the sincerity she heard in his voice. "I'll need to validate your statement through your memories."

Her quill scratching on parchment was the only sound in the room until Draco spoke again. "Tell me, Granger, do you fear death?"

She looked up, surprised. His words almost sounded like a threat, but she didn't see malice in his eyes.

"I-I suppose," she said, "to some extent. I mean, doesn't everyone?"

He shook his head. "You're good. You fear the unknown, not death itself. The evil . . . we fear death because there is no unknown. We know exactly what's waiting for us."

Hermione inclined her head, regarding him carefully as his strange words sank in. Before she could stop herself, she asked quietly, "Are you evil, Draco Malfoy?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you know?"

"No."

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the room as they stared at each other questioningly.

Finally, Draco sighed. "Are we done here?"

"Yes, for today . . ." Hermione began packing up her paperwork, surprised that Draco remained seated, watching her. She expected him to bolt for the door after being dismissed from their awkward conversation.

"Your hair's back."

"What?" Puzzled, Hermione looked up from her paper shuffling.

"Your hair." Draco gestured wildly around his own head. "It's normal again. It was different yesterday."

"Oh, uh, I usually straighten it on days I have court. To look more professional. It's stupid, but . . ." She went back to sorting through her documents.

"Well, I prefer it like this," Draco said, placing his thumb to his chin.

She shot him a murderous look. "I don't really care what you  _prefer_ , Malfoy!"

_Who does he think he is?_

He smirked, as if entertained by her defensiveness. "I just meant because it suits you this way. You look more like you."

His explanation only served to irritate her more. Not because of what he said, but because it was so close to what she had thought about herself that morning. The idea of having a similar thought as Draco Malfoy was disturbing.

"Just be quiet!" She shoved her paperwork in her briefcase and slammed it shut. "The Ministry isn't paying me to talk to you about my hair."

Draco raised both eyebrows, but surprisingly, complied. He eased himself out of his chair and headed for the door. He knocked on it once to notify the guard that he was ready to leave. "See you tomorrow, Granger," he said before disappearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what did you think of their second meeting? In case you were wondering, I LOVE comments. I love them as much as the Malfoys love insulting people (so, a lot). Don't be shy about leaving one ;)
> 
> A 4-chapter sample of Desperate Forest is now live on my website! Take a peek at CeceLouise.com < Blog


	9. Notions

Draco threw himself down on the hard cot Azkaban called a bed and stared at the stone ceiling.

_Well, that went . . . strangely_.

He couldn't help but reflect on the miserable turn his life had taken. The once proud and powerful Malfoy heir now reduced to a prisoner, relying on the girl he once bullied mercilessly for his freedom. It was laughable, really.

What would it be like, he wondered, if their roles were reversed? If Voldemort had won and the Death Eaters were in control. Granger would likely be the one in prison, probably a far worse one than he was in. Would he have helped her, given the chance?

Most likely not. Maybe he would have killed her himself, just to put her out of the misery she would surely be experiencing at the hands of the Death Eaters.

The thought darkened his mood, and as horrible as his current predicament was, he couldn't help but be relieved that the situation was  _not_  reversed. Even if it would've meant his freedom.

It was odd, but seeing her again was a bright spot in his recent pitiful existence. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to talk to another human being besides his family. Something about seeing her, specifically with her crazy hair, reminded Draco of a simple time—a better time—of being at Hogwarts and having no real worries.

He liked it. Being able to remember that he once had a life outside this cell. Would he ever have that again? It was pathetic, but for some reason, Hermione Granger gave him a sliver of hope.

Maybe his mother was right. Maybe if anyone could help him, it was Granger. She was clever, he knew that—and resourceful. But she certainly didn't owe him anything. That thought sobered him.

"Visitor!" a guard called, unlocking his door. Draco pushed himself off his bed and followed him back to the meeting room.

Inside, his mother waited at the table where he'd sat with Hermione earlier. Draco embraced her and placed a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Well?" Narcissa inquired. "The Granger girl?"

"She was here."

"Good." His mother sat down, a smile on her face. "That's good, Draco."

"Maybe." He narrowed his eyes at his dangerously clever mother. "What exactly did you tell her yesterday?"

His mother sniffed. "Just the facts. This current Ministry is a sham."

"Uh-huh . . ." Draco replied dubiously. He knew his mother had certain  _notions_  about him when it came to Hermione Granger. It all started when she'd witnessed his chat with her, Potter, and Weasley at the Quidditch World Cup. Ever since, his mother had watched him carefully whenever Hermione Granger was brought up in a conversation.

His mother's keen eye was what had caused Draco to identify Granger at the Manor that fateful night. He knew his mother recognized Granger, and if he'd blatantly lied about her identity, Narcissa would've known he was lying about Potter as well.

More than anything, Draco had not wanted Voldemort to be called that night. He didn't want the death of his three classmates on his hands, or to have to watch it, no matter how much he despised them. However, Draco's actions that evening only fueled his mother's outrageous assumptions.

Between that night and the Quidditch World Cup, Draco really didn't know why he'd acted the way he had. Perhaps there was a small part of him that felt momentarily protective toward the irritating girl. Obviously, her useless friends couldn't be trusted to keep her safe.

Not that Hermione Granger needed anyone to protect her. He knew all too well that she had a solid right hook and a defiant temperament. But those qualities wouldn't have gone far against a band of ruthless Death Eaters.

"Well, just stay out of it, Mother." Draco snapped back to the present day. "You got what you wanted, now leave it alone."

Ignoring his threatening tone, Narcissa folded her hands. "And how did your meeting today go? What did she say?"

Draco shrugged. "She just went over my charges with me. Talked about bringing Lovegood, Ollivander, and Griphook in as witnesses. It will be weak though."

"She's friends with Harry Potter. She could get him to testify on your behalf."

"No," Draco protested immediately. "I'm not asking her to do that. And you won't either! It's not even relevant."

"What about that night at the Manor? You didn't identify him to your father. You prevented Voldemort from being called and probably saved his life!"

"You knew it was him?"

"I knew you knew," she replied matter-of-factly. "That's why I challenged you about Granger."

"Bellatrix would have killed her, you know," Draco said, crossing his arms. "Or driven her mad."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows as if to say,  _What's it to you?_ Instead, she said, "Lucky for us, she didn't."

"Yeah, lucky," he muttered darkly, knowing luck had nothing to do with it. "It doesn't matter. That night isn't applicable to my case. In fact, I don't even think it's common knowledge." Draco never remembered reading about it in the  _Prophet_  in the many recaps and interviews on the exploits of the Golden Trio. For that, he was thankful.

"Testimony from Potter would be invaluable, Draco. Just think about it."

"If that night was brought up in court, Granger probably wouldn't even be allowed to be my Defense Inquisitor. It would be a conflict of interest, so just drop it."

Narcissa complied by changing the subject to how she was adjusting to her life after being cleared of her charges. They talked for almost an hour.

Before she left, his mother gave him a small stack of books, which Draco took eagerly.

_I look like Granger . . ._ he mused bitterly.

However, when he saw the covers and titles of the books, his enthusiasm waned.  _Her Whimsical Wizard's Wish_ and  _Magical Makeshift Marriage_ —half-clothed men and women wearing forlorn expressions adorned the covers. What in Merlin's name were these?

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said, "they're all I had since the Ministry seized our library. And it isn't a good idea for me to be seen in Diagon Alley just yet."

Draco nodded and took the books anyway. His mind was desperate for any kind of escape from the hellhole he was currently in.

* * *

Hermione shook Luna Lovegood's hand and thanked her for coming to her office on such short notice. They had just finished discussing Luna's experience of being held captive at Malfoy Manor.

As Hermione expected, Luna had no problem testifying that the "blond boy troubled by Wrackspurts" (as Luna described Draco) had done her no harm while she was there. Luna also added that he was the only one who gave the prisoners proper meals during her captivity, and he even smuggled in a few books for her to read.

Unfortunately, Hermione didn't think Luna's starry-eyed testimony would hold much weight with the Wizengamot. But it was a start.

"Do you think Draco will be released?" Luna asked as Hermione walked her to the door.

"I'm not sure, Luna."

"It would be a shame if he wasn't," she said airily. "He has a good soul. I can tell. He just needs someone to care for him and keep the Wrackspurts away . . . someone like you, Hermione. Do you think he'd like that?" she gazed at Hermione with round, questioning eyes.

Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the blond girl's bizarre question. "No, Luna, I don't think he would."

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, her face falling. "Well, tell him I said hello. And that he should hold your hand . . . the Wrackspurts never bother you."

"Um . . . I'll let him know you wish him well," Hermione said, having no intention of relaying the second part of Luna's statement.

"That's good," Luna replied and walked dreamily down the hall. Hermione smiled as she watched her go. She admired Luna's calm, certain outlook on life.

She knew people often underestimated Luna, hence her nickname of "Loony," but Hermione knew the girl to be strangely perceptive.

It comforted her slightly to know that Luna didn't think badly of Draco Malfoy. Even though Hermione didn't trust or like him, the fact that Luna seemed to, made Hermione feel a little more comfortable about pleading his case.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron weren't likely to be so understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the comments last chapter! It absolutely makes my day when I hear that someone is enjoying my story! Did you guys like seeing Luna in this chapter? She is one of my very favorite HP characters! I really admire her attitude. Next chapter, we get to see Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Chapter preview will be up on my Facebook and Twitter page by EOD.
> 
> If any of you are HP Fanfiction writers, you should head on over to Wattpad and enter your story in the Harry Potter Seeker Awards! I'm one of the judges and there are lots of great awards, including Best Dramione and my personal favorite, Best Drama (The Rita Skeeter Award). Check it out here: https://www.wattpad.com/story/187843300-seeker-awards-harry-potter-open


	10. Bound to Get Hurt

That evening, Hermione fought her way through a very crowded Leaky Cauldron to meet Harry, Ginny, and Ron for dinner. As she pushed through the throng, she noticed several patrons glaring at her and heard a few non-discreet, angry whispers.

Hermione's history of defending Death Eaters had not made her as popular as she once was. In fact, the  _Daily Prophet_  had more than once referred to her as a "traitor" to Muggle-born witches and wizards. Like Ron, many people could not understand the fact that her job was to uncover and present the facts, regardless of what she or anyone else believed about her clients.

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione breathed, sliding into the empty chair next to Ginny, who hugged her. "My meeting ran long."

"That's okay." Harry smiled at her. "Ginny and I only just got here."

"Let's order," Ron said, "I'm starving! I haven't eaten in . . ." He looked at his watch. "Two hours."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes but agreed because she was quite hungry too.

Once everyone's drinks arrived, Harry cleared his throat. "So, uh . . . Ginny and I have some news." His cheeks were tinged pink and he smiled broadly. "We're engaged."

Hermione and Ron cried out joyfully in unison. Hermione's gaze immediately went to Ginny's outstretched left hand, which had a large sparkling ruby ring on it. Ron clapped Harry on the back. "Welcome to the family, mate!"

The four friends spent the next hour laughing and talking over the couple's upcoming wedding plans. As Harry and Ginny good-naturedly argued over Australia versus Greece for their honeymoon, Hermione stole a glance at Ron, who was obliviously stuffing his face with Hermione's remaining food.

There was a part of her that would always love him. She'd loved him for so long but, at the same time, their romantic relationship had been a disaster.

Not only did Ron not support her in her job, but he'd also been forgetful and uninterested in their relationship. Although she knew he loved her in his own way, he certainly hadn't made her feel special. Combining that with the ferocious fights they had, and Ron's inability to have deep conversations, she knew she'd been right to end things.

But now, seeing her other two friends so happy and complete, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She always thought that would be her and Ron someday. Clearly, she'd been very wrong.

"So 'Mione, how's work?" Harry said. Although Harry and Ron were both Aurors and the three of them often dealt with the same people, Harry was the only one who showed an interest in her cases. Hermione noticed Ron stiffen next to her.

"Yeah, any interesting cases?" Ginny asked, always ready for a little gossip.

"Uh . . . yes, I guess you could say that," Hermione did not feel ready to have this discussion with her friends, but she knew it was inevitable.

"Really? Who?" Ginny leaned over the table eagerly.

"Draco Malfoy . . ." Hermione said it almost as a question, waiting for the inevitable blowout.

"WHAT?!" Ron dropped his fork, and food flew off Hermione's plate.

"No way!" Ginny exclaimed as Harry sputtered and coughed, having choked on his drink.

"What's wrong with you?!" Ron turned on Hermione angrily.

Harry managed to recover enough to gasp, "You can't be serious."

"Is he still hot?" Ginny unhelpfully asked.

"Ron! Calm down!" Hermione smacked her hand on the table. "Just let me explain, okay?" She turned to Harry. "And yes, I'm serious." Ginny's question she ignored.

Ron crossed his arms, his face as red as his hair, while Harry ran a worried hand through his hair. "How?" Harry said, "I mean, what about what happened at the Manor?"

"I know, I know." Hermione sighed. "Shackelbolt assigned me the case. He doesn't know about what happened at the Malfoys'."

"You should've told him," Harry said gently. "Or refused because of your history with Malfoy."

"I did refuse, at first," Hermione said. "But Shacklebolt still felt I was the best option. He said every other Inquisitor has a grudge against the Malfoy family—"

"What, and you don't?" Ron demanded. "Because you should!"

Hermione glared at Ron but ignored him. "Shacklebolt thought I was the only one who could be impartial."

" _Can_  you?" Ginny asked.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "I wasn't sure, initially, but I know I can. This is my job and it's what I'm good at. Honestly, I defend terrible people all the time. This is no different."

"Stupid ferret," Ron grumbled.

"But what about your . . . involvement?" Harry asked, no doubt thinking that word sounded better than torture.

Hermione shrugged. "It really doesn't pertain to Malfoy's case. I never pressed charges—Bellatrix is dead—and Malfoy didn't capture us or torture me . . . he was just there."

"Yeah, standing there watching!" Ron threw a napkin on Hermione's plate. "Bet he enjoyed every minute of it."

"Ron, you don't know that," she said, but then realized neither did she.

"Harry and I would've done anything to have gotten out of that ruddy cellar and helped you. Malfoy was ten feet away and did nothing! I'll never forgive him for that, and you shouldn't either."

"I didn't say I forgave him, Ron! Stop putting words in my mouth." She sighed. "I was going to refuse the case, but then Narcissa Malfoy came to my office and asked me—"

"What, now you're all buddy-buddy with the Malfoys?" Ron threw his hands in the air. "I don't believe this. They're a bunch of criminals!"

"Narcissa was cleared of her charges," Hermione said. "And Harry testified for her."

"I still don't know why you did that." Ron glared at Harry.

"I would be dead right now if she'd given me away to Voldemort, Ron," Harry said calmly. "And who knows how many other people. She risked her life by saying what she did . . . and she did it all for Draco . . . so it makes sense why she came to you, Hermione."

Hermione smiled weakly at Harry, relieved that he, at least, was being reasonable. She was glad no one asked her what Narcissa Malfoy had said to her, or rather shown her. Hermione didn't want to share everything she had seen in Narcissa's memories. She knew Ron would say Hermione had been manipulated. And maybe she had been.

"Look," Hermione said, "I'm just going to make sure he gets a fair trial and that will be the end of it. I'll likely never have to see him again—whether he's convicted or not."

Ron shook his head. "I don't understand why you guys would have anything to do with that family. They're all evil. You know, Dean Thomas and I apprehended Rudolphus Lestrange the other day."

"Who?" Ginny asked.

"Bellatrix LeStrange's husband," Hermione answered immediately.

"Yeah, Malfoy's  _uncle."_  Ron shoved Hermione's plate away, apparently finally having lost his appetite. "Anyway, when we raided his hideout, we found a whole bunch of Bellatrix's memories there. She kept them as trophies to prove her loyalty to Voldemort or something. From the looks of it, every evil thing she ever did for him was preserved." He shook his head. "I've been viewing them all and, let me tell you, the things she did are sick."

Hermione shuddered. "I don't doubt it, Ron. We all know what she was capable of, but Draco Malfoy is not Bellatrix Lestrange."

"May as well be," Ron grumbled. "What type of messed up things have you had to see in his memories?"

"I haven't seen any of his memories yet, but even if I had, you know I'm not at liberty to disclose that information."

Ginny nodded. "How has he been towards you?"

"At first, he wasn't any happier about it than me," Hermione said. "But today . . . he was okay."

"Well, if he gives you a hard time, you can back out at any point," Harry said.

"I know," Hermione said. "Honestly, so far, he's been more pleasant than most of my clients." She took a sip of water. "Look, let's talk about something else, okay? I didn't want to keep it from you guys, but I knew you wouldn't be happy about it. It's just something I need to do, okay?"

"Don't trust him for a minute, 'Mione," Ron warned, pulling Ginny's unfinished plate toward him. "If Malfoy's involved, you're bound to get hurt somehow."

"I'll be fine, Ron," she assured him, wishing she could feel as confident as she sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What did you think of Harry, Ron, and Ginny's reactions? I know you're all itching to see more of Draco and Hermione together, which is exactly what you are going to get in the next couple of chapters! You can see a sneak peek of the next chapter on my social media now. Twitter: CeceLAuthor, Facebook: CeceLouiseAuthor, and Pinterest: cecelouiseauthor (I have a Chapter Previews board).


	11. A Good Soul

When Draco entered the meeting room the next day, he was greeted by the sight of a very frazzled-looking Hermione, arranging her papers. Her hair was pulled into a haphazard bun with numerous tendrils escaping, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked as he sat down.

Hermione barely glanced up. “I, uh, didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Wild night, huh?” He smirked at her. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“No . . . I just met Harry, Ron, and Ginny for dinner.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?” She rubbed her forehead.                                                                                  

Draco rolled his eyes. “About our torrid love affair.” He waved his hand. “About _this_ , obviously.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “And it didn’t go over very well.”

“Shocking. What did they say? Lock me in the darkest cell in Azkaban and throw away the key?”

“Harry and Ginny were pretty reasonable, actually. Ron . . . not so much.”

Draco snorted.

Hermione smiled slightly. “Did you really just use the word ‘torrid’?”

Draco frowned and crossed his arms, muttering, “Stupid romance books.”

“What, are romance novels all they give you to read in Azkaban?” Hermione laughed. “They’re getting unique with their punishments.”

“No, they don’t give us anything to read in here.” He grimaced. “They’re all my mother had to give me. The Ministry seized our library when they arrested us. Too many ‘dangerous’ books on Dark Magic in there, apparently.”

“Oh.” Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips, sobering her mockery, then shook her head. “I guess those are better than nothing . . . Merlin, I’d go insane.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled.

“Well, anyway, I met with Luna Lovegood yesterday and she’s agreed to testify for you. She, uh, also asked me to tell you hello and that she hopes you get released.”

“She did?” Draco was genuinely surprised. He remembered the girl had been strange, to say the least, but he felt a small twinge of relief knowing someone in the wizarding world didn’t hate every fiber of his being.

“Yeah, she also said you had a . . . good soul.”

Draco laughed loudly. “Really? That’s unexpected. Uh . . . tell her thanks, I guess. She’s a nutter, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Hermione glared at him. “She’s not a nutter! She’s actually very insightful. She just sees things differently than most people.”

“That’s one way of putting it. You know, she never even seemed scared or upset when she was locked in the cellar. She used to ask me how _I_ was doing though and—” he scrunched up his face “—something about how to get rid of the . . . Wrackspurts?” He looked at Hermione. If anyone knew what those were, it would be know-it-all Granger.

“Uh, yeah, Wrackspurts are kind of her thing.” For some reason, Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink as she said this.

For the rest of their time together, Hermione went over the questions she would likely ask Luna on the stand and asked Draco more details about her time at the Manor, just to make sure his story matched Luna’s.

When their time was up and Draco walked back to his cell, he couldn’t help noticing he felt slightly more relaxed than he had when he arrived that morning.

He shook his head. _Maybe I finally got rid of the Wrackspurts . . ._

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and Draco had already met with his mother that afternoon, so he was surprised when the guard announced that he had another visitor.

When he entered the meeting room, he was stunned to see Hermione Granger seated there, wearing a striking blue dress, curly hair cascading around her as she pulled large books out of a small beaded bag and stacked them on the table.

“Oh, hi,” she said when she saw him.

“What are those?” Draco eyed the large tomes suspiciously.

“My seventh-year Hogwarts books. I thought you might like to borrow them.”

He shot his eyebrows up in surprise. “Why?”

“Well, your record said you never graduated, and I thought you might want to get a head start . . . in case you do get out of here.”

Draco picked the first textbook off the stack and opened it. “What’s the point?”

“Isn’t it better than doing nothing or reading mindless romance novels?” she asked, sounding slightly frustrated.

She had a point. If he had to read one more description about “her heaving bosoms” or “his deep blue orbs,” he was going to poke his own orbs out.

“Besides,” she went on, “if you do get released, it will be good for you to have a goal to work toward. You could graduate, get a job, slowly integrate yourself back into society—”

“I don’t think it will be that simple, Granger,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Fine!” She slammed a book on the table. “Have it your way.” She began packing the books back into her bag, looking perturbed. “I should have known bett—”

“Wait.” Draco reached to grab a book she was stowing away but ended up grabbing her hand instead. “I would like to read them.” He looked her in the eye. “Thank you.”

She pulled her hand away swiftly and stared at him. “You’re welcome.”

Draco sat back in his chair as she pulled the books out again. He actually was extremely excited to have the opportunity to put his brain to use once more.

“Oh, and I got you these too. In case you want something just for entertainment.” Hermione pulled out three similar-looking hardcover books and handed one to him.

“ _The Lord of the Rings_?” He inspected it. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, they’re Muggle books,” she said carefully. “But I think you’ll like them. Start with this one.” She handed him another book, titled _The Hobbit_.

Draco opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind. Honestly, he really couldn’t afford to be picky right now. And they couldn’t possibly be as bad as the books his mother gave him.

“All right,” he agreed begrudgingly.

Ignoring his ungrateful tone, Hermione opened one of the books and brought it up to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmmm . . .” she breathed enthusiastically. “Don’t you just love the smell of new books?”

Draco gaped at her display.

“Here.” She shoved it under his nose. “Smell it.”

“What? No!” He knocked her hand away. “I’m not _smelling_ a book! What is _wrong_ with you?”

“What? I always smell my books.” She looked genuinely confused.

“You’re mental.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes but ignored his comment. “The _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy you can keep. The textbooks I’ll want back. And make sure you treat them well. I want them to stay in good condition.”

“Of course you do,” he muttered, picturing her meticulously dusting a shrine of her former Hogwarts textbooks at home, surrounded by cats. _What a nerd . . ._

As he gathered all the books in a neat stack, he tried not to look too eager. In all honesty, he was extremely grateful to have these distractions. It would make his time in Azkaban much more tolerable.

Hermione watched him with a knowing smile, as if sensing his gratitude that he did not express.

“Oh! One more thing,” she said suddenly and reached into her bag. She pulled out a small device with what appeared to be plastic earmuffs.

“What’s that?” Draco eyed it suspiciously. It looked undoubtedly Muggle.

“My MP3 player. It’s for music. It’s Muggle,” she said in a tone that implied, _Deal with it,_ “but I’ve charmed it so the battery won’t die.”

Having no idea what a battery was, Draco took it hesitantly.

“You put these over your ears to listen to it.” She pointed to the round ends of the strange earmuffs, which were at least padded. “This button turns it on and these will change tracks.”

“This better not be full of Celestina Warbeck,” he said, imagining “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love” playing over and over again, driving him insane.

Hermione laughed. “No, there’s some Weird Sisters and other stuff you should know. Besides that, it’s Muggle music.”

Draco snorted loudly to show his distaste.

“But you don’t really care for music, do you?” Hermione enquired with a smirk.

“Of course I like music,” he protested. “Just not weird Muggle stuff.”

“It was a joke,” she said with a quick laugh. “It’s from a song—track four.” She stood up. “I have to go.”

“Got a hot date?” He eyed her dressy appearance.

“Yes, actually.”

_With the Weasel?_ He frowned but didn’t ask.

Just before she opened the door to leave, Draco called to her. “Granger?”

She turned expectantly.

“Thank you.” He gestured to the stack on the table. “I’m not quite sure why you did this but . . . I do appreciate it.”

“I just . . . well, I can’t imagine anything more awful than staring at a blank wall all day. Besides, it will look good if we can tell the Wizengamot that you’re interested in continuing your studies.”

Draco nodded, and with that, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my mom, who always smells books and is the reason I do it too :D Any other book sniffers out there? Oh, and 10 points to the House of your choice if you can name the song Hermione quoted in this chapter!


	12. I Used to Live Alone

When Draco got back to his cell, he threw himself on his cot and assessed the books and music-playing contraption.

The reality of what Granger had just done hit him. It was incredibly kind and considerate of her to bring these things for him. She really was far too compassionate.

But then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. After all, this was the girl who wasted half of third year trying to save a manic hippogriff's life, and then later devoted her spare time to freeing house-elves.

At least house-elves were pathetic creatures who deserved her sympathy. Him? Not so much.

 _Does she make a habit of this with all her clients?_  He pictured her organizing an ice-cream social for reformed Death Eaters and shook his head.

Draco turned on the strange little music-playing device she'd given him and put the round pieces over his ears.

Immediately, he pressed the button she'd shown him and skipped to the fourth track. Soothing piano music and a deep voice filled his ears. In the first verse, he recognized the line Hermione had quoted to him and he smiled.

He closed his eyes, letting the haunting melody wash over him. When it was over, he played it again.

As he listened, he picked up one of the Muggle books she'd given him and, feeling quite foolish, opened it and inhaled. It did smell good. Not surprisingly, he thought it smelled like Hermione Granger. He closed the book and went back to enjoying the peaceful music.

He liked the song, and against his will, he was beginning to like the woman who shared it with him.

"So Ginny tells me you're a Ministry Defense Inquisitor," Hermione's blind date, Robert Nottingford, said as he flashed her a winning smile, reminding Hermione of the Muggle actor Brad Pitt.

"Yes." Hermione returned his smile and spread her napkin on her lap. "I started the program straight out of Hogwarts."

Robert let out a quick laugh and brushed his sandy blond hair from his eyes. "Can't imagine why the Ministry even wastes their time making you defend Death Eaters. May as well just lock them all up and save you the trouble, eh?"

"Well, it's not always so—"

"Heard you got that prick Draco Malfoy's case." He took a generous swig of Firewhiskey and grimaced. "Tough luck. I doubt you've got much of a case there. Heard he was a Death Eater right outta the cradle. His family and Voldemort go way back— real pureblood bigots."

Hermione felt prickles rise up her back. "It's not always so simple. Many of the pureblood families are very patriarchal. Some of the wives and children really had no choice but to follow Voldemort when the time came."

"Yeah, poor defenseless Death Eaters . . . cry me a river." Robert downed his drink and waved his hand to the waitress. When she came over, he pointed to his glass. "Another one of these and the sirloin steak, please. The lady will have another drink and a salad, easy on the dressing."

Hermione glanced at her glass of white wine, which she'd barely touched. "I don't need another drink. I'm fine with this for now. And I'll take the chicken parmesan instead of a salad." She handed her menu to the waitress, who gave her a knowing look.

Robert raised his eyebrows at her and gave a sheepish grin. "Thought I had that one down. My dates always just order a salad."

Hermione forced a smile and changed the subject. "So Ginny said you used to play Quidditch before you became a manager for the Harpies . . ."

"Yeah, until about four months ago." Robert went on to tell her about his time at Ilvermorny, the American Wizarding school, and how he signed with an American Quidditch team after graduation before moving on to become an assistant manager for the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione smiled and nodded politely as he recounted his many Quidditch exploits.

"This is so embarrassing," Robert said after a few minutes, looking around the restaurant. "I apologize if my fans are making you uncomfortable. They're always staring when I'm out." He sighed heavily. "I just want to be a normal guy, you know?"

Hermione glanced discreetly at the other patrons. There was another couple who seemed engrossed in each other's conversation, a family trying to placate a feisty toddler who was having too much fun with his mashed potatoes, and an elderly couple squinting at their menus. She didn't see anyone staring at them.

"It's fine," she said, "I actually didn't notice—"

"Of course, you must be used to that. Being the brains behind the Golden Trio and everything. When Ginny told me she was good friends with you, I just had to meet you. I'm so glad she finally set this up."

The waitress brought their food, and they made stilted conversation as they ate. By the time dinner was over, Robert had moved on to his fourth Firewhiskey and was blatantly staring at Hermione's chest every time she answered a question. Hermione resisted the urge to throw her water in his face.

 _Ginny is going to get an earful tomorrow_ , Hermione thought as Robert and she got up to leave.

"So what do you say we head back to my place, eh?" Robert whispered in her ear, the smell of Firewhiskey engulfing her as he leaned in close. His hand cupped her backside. "Bet we could have some real fun."

Hermione whipped around and firmly pushed him back. "No Robert, I've had more than enough  _fun_  for one evening."

Robert sneered and pulled at his tie. "So it's like that, huh? Should've known you'd be stuck up." His glassy gaze moved past her and his face lit up. "Well, that's your loss."

Hermione stared at him as he walked to the restaurant bar and sat down next to a leggy blonde with a glass of red wine and a small salad. The blonde flashed him an inviting smile as Robert placed a hand on her thigh.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Looks like he finally found his date . . ._

She Flooed home to her flat, kicked her shoes off, and headed straight for the kitchen. She opened the freezer, grabbed a pint of ice cream and a spoon, then threw herself down on her couch.

_What an evening . . ._

Hermione sighed and took a bite of vanilla ice cream. Ironically, the high point of her miserable evening had been when she stopped to drop off her books for Draco Malfoy at Azkaban. She honestly would've preferred his company over the oaf she'd just been out with. And that was saying something.

Although he tried to hide it, she could tell Malfoy was sincerely grateful for the books. Even without dementors, Hermione knew Azkaban was still an extremely depressing place to be. Against her better judgment, she did feel a small amount of pity for Draco Malfoy.

Robert Nottingford's attitude about Malfoy that evening had irked her. As if Malfoy didn't even deserve a fair trial because of who his family was. Yes, he had done some awful things—the extent of which wasn't even fully known to her yet—but he was also very young. Did he really deserve to spend the rest of his life in prison for the crimes he committed in his youth?

She recalled how Luna had said that Draco Malfoy had a good soul. Although Hermione had never seen any evidence of that, she hoped Luna was right. Perhaps, if she was, Hermione could find a way to reduce his charges.

With a hopeful heart, Hermione put the rest of her ice cream back in the freezer and got ready for bed.

"How was your date?" Draco asked Hermione as soon as he sat down on Monday morning.

"Fine."

"Fine," he imitated her. "Sounds riveting . . . Who was he?"

"That's none of your business." She glared at him.

"What, Weasley spend the entire time slobbering all over you like a Flesh-Eating Slug?" Hermione gave no response as she arranged her papers, so he tried again. "Or, maybe it wasn't with Weasley and you got stood up?" Nothing. "Or, maybe you never really had a date on Saturday, and you got all dressed up for me? That's a little pathetic, Granger, even for you."

"Please." She gave a derisive laugh. "Ginny set me up with one of her managers from the Holyhead Harpies."

"A Quidditch man, eh, Granger? I wouldn't think that would be your type."

"Ugh,  _he_  certainly wasn't. It was awful, okay?"

For some reason, this made Draco happy, but he would never admit it.

"What, Harpie-boy didn't enjoy a play-by-play of  _Hogwarts, a History_  over wine and candlelight?" Draco asked innocently.

"Ha-ha . . . No, he was extremely arrogant."

"What's wrong with being confident?" He smirked.

She groaned. "I forgot who I was talking to. There's confidence and then there's preening at your own reflection in the cutlery during dinner, Malfoy."

"Well, he was probably just trying to impress you." The words came out of his mouth before he even thought about them. To cover his near-compliment, he quickly added, "Or get into your knickers."

"Charming . . ." She curled her lip in distaste. "Trust me, he didn't do either."

 _Ha!_  he thought with satisfaction, beginning to take a real dislike to the unknown Quidditch manager.  _And why's that?_  His brain nudged, but he quickly dismissed it. After all, he disliked everyone.

"Smart man," he gibed for good measure.

"Actually, he was pretty dense."

Ah, most definitely a deal-breaker for her.

"What about the Weasel?"

"Ron? He can be a bit dense too," she said, making notes on her parchment.

"No." He chuckled. "I mean, weren't you guys a thing?"

"Oh . . . um, yeah, but it didn't last."

"Why's that?"

She sighed loudly. "Why do you care, Malfoy?"

He shrugged. "Just making conversation. It's not like I have anyone else to talk to." Which wasn't exactly true, since he knew his mother would visit him later.

She sighed again, this time, less agitated. "We just didn't work together . . . we're very different and not in a good way. Ron never opened up, and I think he was just with me because it was convenient. But that wasn't enough for me."

"Ah, your faith was strong, but you needed proof." Draco smiled playfully as he said the words.

"You listened to the song," she said incredulously, then laughed. "Did you like it?"

"Yeah." Draco scratched his head. "A lot, actually, and almost everything else on there. I can't believe I'm saying this, but music just might be the one thing Muggles do better than wizards."

Hermione gaped at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" She made a show of looking under the table and around the room.

"Now who thinks they're so funny, Granger?"

"I'm just . . . surprised, that's all," she said, smiling.

He grinned back, quite liking that he had been able to surprise her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you're all continuing to enjoy this story! More Draco and Hermione together next chapter 😊
> 
> If you like my writing style check out my other stuff:
> 
> If Only in My Dreams: Another Dramione story you can find on my profile.
> 
> Desperate Forest: A daring escape. An ominous forest. An unexpected alliance. ~ My debut novel coming out on Amazon in July. You can read a 4-chapter sample on my website (www.CeceLouise.com) and Goodreads page.


	13. The Unlikelihood of Hope

"Cormac McLaggen!" Hermione spat venomously the minute Draco sat down the next afternoon.

"What did you call me? Is that some Muggle swear I've never heard before?" Draco's tone was light, but he was a bit wary. The last time he'd seen Granger this angry had been in their third year when she'd slapped him. He moved away from her slightly.

"No,  _Cor-mac Mc-Lagg-en_." She pronounced each syllable distastefully. "He's the prosecuting Inquisitor for your case and he's awful. Completely underhanded and dirty. Always taking bribes but never gets caught. He was a year ahead of us at Hogwarts . . . Gryffindor. He's the worst!"

Draco smirked. "And here I thought I was the worst."

"No, you're an annoying little ferret. McLaggen is a slimy octopus with the tentacles to match."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" He thought for a moment. "He does sound familiar . . . Wait, didn't you date him?"

"No!" Hermione looked up from her papers to glare at him. "We went to one party together, and I spent most of the time hiding from him." She shuddered. "He was not exactly a gentleman."

"Seems to be a pattern of yours . . ." Weasley, that Holyhead Harpies clown, and now this guy? Draco couldn't help but wonder why she never seemed to date anyone who actually deserved her. But then again, maybe that guy didn't exist.

Hermione frowned. "Look, he's a dirtbag, but he's extremely clever and unscrupulous. All those enemies of your father's? If they're paying him off, McLaggen will resort to anything to get you convicted. He's ruthless in court."

Draco groaned. "Just my luck. So, what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means we're going to need to be incredibly thorough and even more careful."

* * *

"Two charges of the Imperius curse . . . let's talk about that," Hermione said a half hour later, reviewing the sheet of Draco's charges.

Draco's light demeanor quickly changed once they started talking about his case, and Hermione noticed him stiffen at the question.

"I used it on Madame Rosmerta in sixth year to try to get the cursed necklace to Dumbledore. She, in turn, used it on Katie Bell, hence the two charges. And I think you already know how that scenario played out."

Hermione nodded. "So, it goes back to Dumbledore's death—conspiracy to murder. What made you want to kill Dumbledore?"

"I was upset he wasn't going to make me Head Boy," he said sarcastically then, let out a frustrated breath. "I didn't  _want_  to kill him! I was ordered to by Voldemort. Didn't you already know that?"

"Most of it, yes, but I need to hear it from you. I'm trying to build a case here, remember?" Draco muttered something unintelligible as Hermione continued. "When did Voldemort order you to kill him?"

"Before the start of sixth year." He grimaced. "It was my first official task as a Death Eater."

"And when did you take the Dark Mark?" She nodded towards the metal band that was secured around his left forearm, a security measure so Death Eaters couldn't contact each other in Azkaban.

"A few days earlier."

"And how did you feel about that? Did you want to become a Death Eater?"

Draco's gaze shifted downward, and the silence was deafening. Finally, he sighed, then said, "Before I became one, yes, I did—I'd basically been preparing for it my whole life. My father was one, and he made it sound important and exciting. Said they were purifying the world of filth, and all that garbage." He frowned. "When my father was put in Azkaban at the end of fifth year, it just fueled my fire—I blamed Potter and all of you for him being there, and I wanted to prove to my father I could take his place."

His words reminder Hermione just how much he'd once hated her and her friends—and maybe still did. "Did you ever have any doubts?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Sometimes . . . but I tried to push them away. Besides, when the time came, I didn't really have a choice. My father was in Azkaban, Death Eaters were living in our house, and Voldemort demanded that I make up for my father's mistakes." He rubbed his brow. "We were in much too deep at that point. It seemed like the only way to keep my family safe—and myself."

"So, what do you think of Voldemort's teachings now?"

"Does it matter?" He sighed.

"Yes, it does. The Wizengamot is going to be looking to see if you're still loyal to his cause, if you'll be likely to join up with Death Eaters again."

"No, I'm not still loyal to his cause, and I wish I'd never taken this mark." He held up his wrist, muttering darkly, "And couldn't care less about blood purity . . . a lot of good that did me."

"Would you be willing to confirm that statement in court under Veritaserum?"

"Yes."

"Good." Hermione glanced up from her parchment to look Draco in the eye. "For what it's worth, I believe you." Hermione thought she saw his expression soften slightly. "And I think there's a good case to be made that most of your crimes were committed under duress to keep yourself and your family safe. However, McLaggen is going to try to disprove all that. So, I'm going to need to view your memories and share parts of them as evidence."

Draco frowned deeply. "I don't really want you poking around inside my head, Granger."

"I understand, but the court is going to need proof of your statements—they're going to want to see for themselves. I'm going to need anything that shows Voldemort threatened you and your family. I'm assuming you have memories to show that?"

Draco nodded.

"Okay. Then that's what we're going to work on next." Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "I can't make any promises that he'll agree, but I'm going to ask Harry to testify on your behalf."

"Potter? Why? He doesn't have anything to do with this."

"Actually . . . he does. He was there in the Astronomy Tower the night Dumbledore died. He was hidden but he saw everything. His testimony could be extremely valuable in proving that you didn't intend to kill Dumbledore, even if Snape hadn't shown up."

"I-I had no idea he was there." Draco blinked several times, looking severely shocked.

Hermione saw realization dawn on his face, and he looked up at her with hope, the first time she'd seen any the entire time she worked with him.

"Do you think this might actually work? I might get out of here?" he asked in amazement.

"I think we have a lot of work ahead of us but, yes, I think you could."

Suddenly, Draco reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "Thank you," he said, gazing at her intently.

Surprised, Hermione dropped her quill. Draco's touch felt cool and firm, but surprisingly gentle. His fingers rubbed over hers before releasing them entirely.

Hermione gaped at him. She had no idea why, but the sensation of his touch caused her heart to quicken. "It's my job," she said, quickly averting her gaze.

* * *

The next day, Draco was on the roof of Azkaban for one of three hours he got every week of outside time. For the first time since he'd been there, the gloomy sky above him held promise.

After his conversation with Granger yesterday, he finally allowed himself to have hope that he might not be doomed to this fate for the rest of his life.

The fact that she could be getting Harry Potter to testify for him was huge. If Potter agreed, and if his testimony was convincing, Draco knew the Wizengamot could be swayed. If anyone could get Harry Potter to plead his case, Draco was certain it was Hermione Granger. Perhaps his mother was right, after all.

Draco made his way to the far side of the roof, to do a series of pullups on a metal pipe. He usually made the most of his outside time by getting some physical exercise. Being forced to live in a box most of the time made him crave exertion.

Suddenly, he noticed three shadows behind him and turned around to see Dolohov, Rowle, and Macnair—three former Death Eaters, two whom Draco had tortured under Voldemort's command.

Of all the crimes Draco had committed, those were the ones he felt the least guilty about. Although he had hated actually performing the curse, he didn't hold any favor for Antonin Dolohov or Thorfinn Rowle. Draco had witnessed Dolohov and Rowle torturing and killing multiple people over his time as a Death Eater and recalled how much they'd enjoyed doing it. No wonder they'd been convicted to Azkaban for the rest of their lives.

"Malfoy!" Dolohov growled menacingly. "Heard you have Hermione Granger for an Inquisitor. Think that filthy Mudblood is going to save you, huh?"

Draco's muscles tensed. "Watch your mouth, Dolohov. You never were very smart."

Dolohov spat on the ground. "And you should be ashamed, letting a Mudblood plead your case. Where's your loyalty, boy?"

"It's certainly not with you. Voldemort's dead, but if he wasn't, it wouldn't be with him anymore, either."

"You think you're so clever, Malfoy." Dolohov sneered. "But I've still got connections on the outside. Maybe I'll have one of our old friends pay your sweet little Inquisitor a visit. I'm sure they'd be happy to. After all, Mudbloods still have their uses—"

Draco was on Dolohov in an instant. He pushed him roughly against the brick wall and smashed his fist into Dolohov's face. "If one of your goons comes within fifty feet of her, I swear—"

Dolohov laughed, blood dripping from his nose, no doubt pleased with the reaction his words had elicited. "Wait until your father hears about this. You're a disgrace to the Malfoy name!" He signaled to his companions, causing Rowle and Macnair to pull Draco back.

Draco felt a hard fist connect with his jaw. He let a few of his own retaliating shots fly, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Within seconds, he was thrown to the ground, being kicked and beaten mercilessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for not posting a preview to social media last week. Things got crazy busy, but I will post one for the next chapter today. Although, I'm curious, has anyone been reading those? I'm not sure if people like them, or if you prefer to just read the whole chapter at once? Let me know!   
> FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor   
> TWITTER: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor   
> PINTEREST: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews
> 
> Oh, and sorry for ending this chapter with Draco getting beat up. If you leave a comment, it will probably make him feel better ;)


	14. I Wish

When Draco entered the meeting room the next day, Hermione took one look at him and dropped the papers she was holding.

"Malfoy!" She was by his side in an instant. "What happened to you?"

"A run-in with some Death Eaters yesterday." He eased himself into his chair, grimacing in pain. "It's surprising, really, the punches some of them can throw when they've done nothing but wave a wand their entire lives."

Hermione knelt next to him to survey the damage. Draco knew his left eye was black and swollen, and his lip was split. His nose had also been broken and poorly repaired. Several bruises and cuts ran down the visible parts of his arms, and some broken ribs made his breath and speech erratic.

"Merlin, Malfoy! You look awful! Why didn't anyone heal you?"

He smirked, then said darkly, "This  _is_  after they healed me . . . It seems Azkaban isn't too worried about keeping their prisoners in optimal shape."

"That's terrible!" Her eyes flashed. "Those Death Eaters better be getting punished for this, and I'm going to have a word with the Azkaban officials. This never should have happened in the first place! And what type of Healer do they have on staff? This is clear incompetence and inhumane treatment of prisoners!"

Hermione's outrage reminded Draco of one of her house-elf rants she made at Hogwarts. Oddly enough, her irate tirade made him feel better. If it had been for anyone else, he would have found it extremely annoying, but somehow, the fact that she was so worked up for his sake was quite endearing.

"It's fine, Granger," he said. "Everything will heal on its own in time and, honestly, I do feel better than I did yesterday." He shifted in his seat. "Besides, that's not what's important. What type of wards do you have set up around your place?"

"The best. Why?" She knit her brows at his sudden change of topic.

Draco hesitated. He didn't want to scare her, but at the same time, he also wanted her to be safe. The latter desire won out and he sighed. "One of the Death Eaters threatened you."

"What? Who?"

"Antonin Dolohov—he said he was going to send someone after you. Just be careful, please. Take Potter or Weasley with you when you go out places, at least until after the trial."

She frowned. "I don't understand. Why would he target me?"

"He probably knows you're my only chance at a decent trial."

"But still—"

"Look, he hates me, all right? He's always hated my family, and I'm sure the fact that I tortured him didn't help."

Hermione was still kneeling by his side, and as Draco regarded her, he felt the same wave of protectiveness that had come over him right before he punched Dolohov. "Just promise me that you'll be careful," he said softly.

"I will." She gave him an odd look. "I always am. Honestly, I get threats all the time—from both sides."

"Well, be  _more_  careful. I know firsthand what these people are capable of."

"Yes, well"—she raised an eyebrow—"I think the current state of your face is a clear example of that. I'll certainly be reporting Dolohov to the Azkaban officials to make sure he can't have any more contact with you."

"Fine. Just as long as you watch yourself too." He wasn't sure whether to scream or laugh at the way she still, somehow, managed to be the one in control of the situation.

Hermione inclined her head. "Who threw the first punch?"

Draco set his mouth in a firm line. "I did."

"Malfoy . . ." She sighed as if he were a naughty child.

"What? I didn't like what he was saying about you." He crossed his arms, then grimaced at the pain it caused him.

Hermione's haughty expression immediately softened, and she shook her head. "I never thought I'd see the day Draco Malfoy would be defending my honor . . . You're in bad shape. Let me take a look."

"I told you, I'm fine," he said, for some reason unable to pull his eyes away from hers and the hint of appreciation he saw there. Had he really been the cause of it?

"Don't be so stubborn." She sniffed contemptuously and stood up, pulling out her wand, then placed her opposite hand to his temple.

He gave a short laugh. "You're one to talk."

" _Episkey_ ," she murmured, holding her wand close to his swollen eyelid.

Draco felt a warm tingling sensation on his eyelid, causing the swelling and pain to lessen, allowing him to open his eye completely again.

"Thanks," Draco said, looking up at her, but she evidently wasn't done. She nodded briefly, then brought her free hand up to his chin, turning his head gently. She placed her thumb on his bottom lip to pull his lips apart as she whispered the incantation again.

At her soft touch, Draco felt a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the healing spell. With her gaze so focused on what she was doing, Draco found himself staring at her brown eyes. In them, he could see flecks of amber, but most strikingly, her kindness and concern.

His lip now healed, she moved her hand upward to brush away his fine hair, which hung low over his forehead, to reveal a deep bruised gash. At her action, Draco felt a strange sensation run down his spine. He wasn't entirely comfortable with how her touch was making him feel, but he also didn't want her to stop.

Before he could process his conflicting emotions any further, she retracted her hand and warned, "This one is going to hurt . . .  _Brackium Emendo_."

Draco's nose made a loud cracking sound and he recoiled from the sudden pain, cursing loudly. "Merlin, Granger!" He brought his hand to his nose.

"Sorry." She grimaced. "They did such a bad job of healing it, I had to partially rebreak it to fix it. It looks normal now, though."

He scowled and rubbed his battered nose, which, admittedly, did feel just like he remembered.

"Let me take a look at your ribs." She gestured toward his chest.

He couldn't resist grinning cheekily at her as he removed his shirt. "Must be your lucky day, Granger."

"Oh, yes, you caught me. In fact, the only reason I became an Inquisitor was to get the chance to ogle you, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes. "It's clear the Death Eaters didn't break your ego when they broke your bones. Although, I can't imagine even a steamroller could do that."

"A what, now?"

"It's a Muggle construction vehi—" She drew in a sharp breath when she saw the state of his chest. "How many Death Eaters  _were_  there?"

Draco looked down and evaluated the blue, black, and yellow bruises that were littered across his torso, stretching to his back, with patches of broken skin mixed in. "Three."

She shook her head and muttered a spell, waving her wand across his chest. "There's no internal bleeding, so that's good, but you have several broken ribs. Sit back." She pushed his shoulder lightly against the chair.

Hermione furrowed her brow, working slowly and carefully as she healed his many injuries. After she healed his ribs, Draco was relieved that he was able to breathe properly again.

"This is pretty deep." She ran a light finger across the slash-like scar on his chest. "How'd you get it?"

"Duel with Potter. Sixth year."

" _Sectumsempra_ ," she murmured, shaking her head. "I was furious with Harry . . ."

"You were?" That surprised him. After all, Draco knew he'd deserved it.

As if reading his mind, Hermione asked quietly, "Were you really about to use the Cruciatus on him?"

"Maybe." Draco kept his voice emotionless. He had enough charges brought against him, he wasn't about to confess to more crimes. "I was driven by hate and fear at the time—the two most powerful emotions in the world."

"Those aren't the most powerful emotions," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Then what is?"

"Love."

"Love," Draco scoffed. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I don't love anyone then, or I'd really be destructive."

"But you do . . ." She stopped what she was doing to look at him. "I mean, you love your parents, right? Isn't that what got you here?"

Draco didn't say anything.

"Love isn't bad, Malfoy." Hermione continued healing him. "It's just . . . next time, you might want to choose to love someone or something that doesn't expect such terrible things of you."

_Like you?_ The outrageous question flashed unwittingly in his mind, but he had the good sense not to say it.

He turned it over, analyzing it. Perhaps that was why Potter had such a hero complex. Did he do all those stupidly brave things just to see the glow of happiness in Granger's eyes? So she'd look at him with that intoxicating admiration of hers? Draco could easily understand how any man could be taken in by that. Loving her would be easy.

Draco banished the dangerous thought quickly—and dangerous it certainly was. Besides the fact that it was pointless, a love like that he'd want to express fully. And where would that get him? With Granger's wand pointed at his throat, no doubt.

"All right, sit up, let me see your back," Hermione directed, having finished healing his chest.

Draco did as she instructed, then turned his head, determined to change the subject. "So, why  _did_  you become an Inquisitor for the Ministry? I never would have guessed you'd do that."

Hermione glanced at him. "I was offered the job right out of Hogwarts. It seemed like a great opportunity to fight for the rights of house-elves and other mistreated magical creatures, but . . ."

Draco finished her sentence. "Instead you're wasting your efforts on a bunch of Death Eaters. Bet that's loads of fun."

"Well, it's not exactly what I pictured myself doing for the rest of my life. I guess I keep hoping when the war trials die down, I'll be able to pursue what I really care about."

"Granger, there are still scores of Death Eaters that haven't been caught yet, not to mention the overload of ones waiting for trials in here. You're looking at another ten years of this, at least. Have you thought about branching out on your own? Starting an organization to focus on the areas you're most interested in?"

She sighed. "Yes, but honestly I wouldn't even know where to begin. I'd be in over my head."

"Since when did that ever stop you? Didn't you start that spew-thing in your fourth year at Hogwarts?"

"It was called S.P.E.W.—the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare!"

He chuckled. "Sorry, but seriously, I think you could do whatever you put your mind to. Just choose a better name next time."

"'Spew' does sound pretty awful," she admitted.

"If all else fails, have you considered becoming a Healer?" He smiled. "You're pretty good at this."

She laughed. "What about you? If you get out of here, what do you think you'd like to do?"

Draco thought for a moment, then said innocently, "I was thinking of starting P.U.K.E.—Protection for Ugly Kneazles and Erumpents." Hermione smacked him directly on a still-bruised portion of his back, causing him to protest loudly. "Well, I take back what I said about you being a Healer. You'd never make it if you abuse your patients like that." He sighed. "Honestly, I'd like to become an Auror. Put some of my knowledge of Dark Magic to good use, I guess. But obviously, they'd never take me."

"Malfoy, that's a great idea!" She put a light hand on his shoulder, then said, "You really have changed, haven't you? I wish. . ."

Draco turned to face her. He searched her brown eyes, waiting for her to continue. But she didn't, and he could see sadness there.

"You wish what?" he prompted.

"Nothing." She bit her bottom lip and removed her hand from his shoulder, stepping away quickly. "Uh, I'm all done. Do you feel better?"

"Much." Draco reached for his shirt and slipped it over his head, pondering what she could possibly wish concerning him.

But Hermione had already made her way back to her side of the table. With a quick spell, she retrieved her papers off the floor and began arranging them.

As he watched her, Draco wondered what she'd been about to say. Then he realized it didn't really matter. He knew that whatever she had wished for or about him, it had been good. He'd seen it in her eyes.

"Granger?"

"Yes?" She looked up.

"I wish that too."

And then she smiled at him, a genuine smile of understanding. One that he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and how their relationship is progressing! This chapter is dedicated to my sister who requested Draco take his shirt off at some point in this story, lol. (Since she betas for me, I figured I should give her that :D). 
> 
> For a preview of the next chapter:  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/  
> For more Dramione by me: If Only in My Dreams: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678153/chapters/39110881  
> For my debut novel, Desperate Forest: Sample on my website (https://cecelouise.com/) or Pre-Order on Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RK6MKX6?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420)


	15. Some People

Hermione sat at the Three Broomsticks, nervously drumming her hands on the table. She had invited Harry to meet her here for lunch so she could ask him to testify on Draco’s behalf.

She had no idea if he would agree to it or not. Yes, he had testified for Narcissa Malfoy, but Hermione knew he was truly grateful to her for her actions the day Voldemort was defeated. It had, indeed, changed everything.

However, Draco Malfoy was another story. His action of helping Harry had been much more subtle, and Hermione knew Harry still resented him for the role he played in Dumbledore’s death.

And then, of course, there was the years of bullying and feuding that had gone on at Hogwarts between Draco Malfoy and the Golden Trio. Even though Hermione could see a change in Malfoy, she knew Harry would still think of him as the same arrogant prat they’d known in school. She could plead Draco’s case, but it didn’t mean Harry would listen.

Hermione recalled the conversation she had with Draco that morning. She’d been truly surprised by his concern for her safety, and even more shocked when he’d admitted to standing up to Dolohov for her sake. Between that and the easy conversation they’d had when she’d been healing him, it had almost felt like they were friends.

So much so that she’d even started to say how she wished things had been different for them in school—that they had been friends then too. But she stopped herself at the last moment.

After all, Draco Malfoy hated her at Hogwarts. She’d recalled specifically the conversation Harry and Ron had with him during their second year, in disguise under the effects of Polyjuice potion. Malfoy had blatantly wished for her death.

That memory was a sobering reminder of their complicated past. They may have formed an odd sort of alliance now, but that certainly didn’t mean Draco Malfoy really felt any differently towards her. His agreeable behavior might merely be an act so she would plead his case more effectively.

Hermione had been surprised when Draco pressed her to finish her sentence. It was even stranger when he had looked into her eyes with apparent understanding and said he wished the same thing.

Had he somehow known what she’d been thinking? She knew he was skilled in Occlumency. He’d told her that Bellatrix Lestrange taught him, a necessity for any Death Eater, but was he a Legilimens as well?

The thought made her extremely uncomfortable. She did not like the idea of Draco Malfoy reading her mind.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry said as he sat in the chair across from her. “Ginny stopped by my office to go over wedding venues, and we lost track of time.”

A huge smile spread over Hermione’s face. In her line of work, it was a welcome distraction to be able to think of something as sweet as her two friends’ wedding.

“How are the plans going?” she asked.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. “Good, I guess. I honestly had no idea how much preparation went into a wedding. It’s a bit insane.”

Hermione nodded, knowing she’d get details from Ginny later. “It can all be a little extreme. If I ever get married, I think I’d like to do something simple.”

“Tell that to Ginny.” Harry chuckled.

After placing their orders, Hermione cleared her throat.

“So, the reason I asked you to meet me here today is . . . I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

“Go on,” Harry said slowly, perhaps already knowing what was coming.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you would consider testifying on Draco Malfoy’s behalf in court.”

“Hermione . . .” Harry rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but it could make all the difference for him. A life sentence in Azkaban versus a second chance.”

“What makes you think he deserves a second chance?”

“He’s different now, Harry. I mean, he can still be obnoxious, but overall, he’s a much better person.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you know he’s not putting on an act? Trying to get you in his corner to help him gain his freedom.”

“He’s been very honest with me. At least, I think he has. Plus, I’ll see his memories, and he’ll be questioned under Veritaserum.” Hermione shook her head. “The way he acted in school, that was him—what he believed at the time. But the things he did . . . I think that was mainly out of fear. Voldemort threatened him and his family. He really didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Hermione.” Harry cocked his head. “Dumbledore offered to help him.”

“I know. But you said so yourself, he was lowering his wand. He didn’t want to kill Dumbledore, and I don’t think he would have.”

“Maybe not. But he still let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts. And he plotted Dumbledore’s murder all sixth year, hurting Ron and Katie in the process.”

“He did it to protect his parents. He didn’t want to do it, Harry. Not in the end. You remember what he was like that year. He was a mess—barely eating or sleeping. What he did was wrong, but it all goes back to Voldemort.”

Harry sighed. “What would you want me to do?”

“Share your memories of that night in the Astronomy Tower and testify that you don’t think Draco would have killed Dumbledore, if that’s what you believe. And . . . possibly testify that Draco didn’t reveal you at the Manor.”

“Are you really going to bring that up in court?”

Hermione nodded, recalling the part of Narcissa’s memory she’d been brave enough to view. “I’m considering it. Malfoy knew it was you. He didn’t want Voldemort to be called, and he didn’t want us to be killed.”

“What about what happened after?”

“That’s not relevant.” Hermione dismissed it quickly with a wave of her hand.

“Not relevant? Hermione, we all hated Malfoy but none of us would have stood by and watched him get tortured! I’m sorry, but I agree with Ron. Malfoy’s a coward.”

“Narcissa didn’t help me either, and you testified for her.”

“That’s different!” Harry threw his hands in the air. “She didn’t grow up with you and see you at school for six years of her life.”

Hermione sighed. “If I can overlook it, I think you should too. Malfoy didn’t torture me, so strictly speaking, he didn’t commit any crime against me. Please, just consider sharing the facts.”

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said. “But Hermione, I don’t like you working with him. I don’t trust him. I think he’s using you.”

“Using me?” Hermione’s voice rose. “I’m his Inquisitor, for Merlin’s sake, it’s my job to defend him!”

“It’s just . . . I know you . . . you care about everyone. And some people don’t deserve it.”

Hermione softened towards her friend, knowing he had her best interest at heart. “I can take care of myself, Harry.”

“I know. Just don’t let your guard down with him.”

“I won’t, I promise. If you honestly feel that Malfoy isn’t completely guilty, please consider sharing those thoughts at his trial. That’s all I ask.”

Harry released a heavy breath. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Draco sat down in his usual spot in the Azkaban meeting room, but this time, he was across from someone he never would have expected to see there.

“Potter.” He nodded.

“Malfoy.” Harry mimicked his gesture, his gaze cold. “You requested a meeting with an Auror.”

“Yes . . . I didn’t think they’d send you, but given the circumstances, I guess you’re ideal.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew together above his round glasses. “What’s this about?”

“Granger. One of the Death Eaters in here threatened to send someone after her.”

“Who?” Harry’s eyes widened and Draco knew he’d gotten his attention.

“Antonin Dolohov—he’s a real sick piece of work, and I wouldn’t put anything past him or his cronies.”

“Why would he target Hermione?”

Draco shrugged. “Because she’s on my case. He despises me.”

“Does Hermione know?”

“Yes, I told her, but she tried to downplay it.” Draco leaned back in his chair. “You know her, she’s stubborn and doesn’t want anyone telling her what to do.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “You’ve got that right.” Then he seemed to realize who he was talking to and cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure we have someone do regular checks on her flat, and I’ll talk to her about not going anywhere alone at night.”

“Good. I’m not sure if you have anything on the whereabouts of the Carrows, but I know Dolohov was tight with them at one point. They’d probably be who he’d contact.”

“I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

“That’s it.” Draco stood up and walked towards the door.

“Malfoy,” Harry called, and Draco turned. “Thanks . . . you did the right thing by letting us know.”

Draco nodded once and knocked on the door. “Just make sure she’s careful, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed seeing Harry again. The next chapter is an important one, and I already posted the Chapter Preview on my social pages if you want a tease (you know you do!) Here’s how you can find me:  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews/


	16. Through the Looking Glass

"We're going to focus on your memories today," Hermione told Draco when he entered the meeting room the next day.

"How fun," he said, crossing his arms as he walked over to where she was setting up a Pensieve. He'd been dreading sharing his memories with her ever since she told him he'd have to.

"All right, it's ready." She turned toward him.

"What exactly do you need?" he asked, eyeing the Pensieve.

"Anything concerning Voldemort."

He released an impatient breath. "Granger, I was raised in a household where Voldemort was idolized. My father told me bedtime stories about him, for Merlin's sake. You're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"Right." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Let's start with your personal experience with Voldemort then. When you took the Dark Mark, and when he commanded you to kill Dumbledore."

Draco nodded, his stomach turning, for once not because of the terrible Azkaban food.

Hermione raised her wand to his head and muttered an incantation as Draco closed his eyes, conjuring the memories. He felt the strange sensation of them leaving his mind in a stream of light, then opened his eyes to see Hermione bottle the memories in a flask.

"Good," she said. "Now I need you to remember the night Dumbledore died. Everything that happened on the Astronomy Tower. I talked to Harry and he's considering testifying for you. I'll need to make sure your memories match."

Draco clenched his fists, then closed his eyes again as Hermione retrieved his memory.

"Okay, there's one more thing," she said slowly.

Draco narrowed his eyes. The two memories he'd shared were already more than he wanted to show her. What else was she asking to see?

She took a deep breath. "The night Harry, Ron, and I were at the Manor."

"No." He crossed his arms firmly to his chest. It was bad enough reliving that evening in his nightmares. He certainly wasn't about to watch it again with her next to him.

"Malfoy, if Harry agrees to testify, it could strengthen your case. We'll probably only need the part where you didn't identify him. Trust me, it could make a difference."

His mind spun, weighing the benefits the memory could have on his case and the horror of seeing her torture again, not to mention the uncomfortable conversation that would certainly follow if she found out everything that happened that night.

"Please, Draco."

Before he could stop himself, his gaze darted to hers. Her brown eyes pleaded with him and he felt his resolve weakening. He knew she wanted to see the memory entirely for his sake, and her compassion and bravery moved him.

"Fine." He sighed, allowing Hermione to retrieve the final memory.

With the three flasks in her hand, she carefully poured each one into the Pensieve and then stared into the silvery swirling mist.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"After you," Draco said grimly, gesturing with his hand.

She nodded and stepped forward.

"Granger, wait." Draco grabbed her elbow and she looked up at him.

He swallowed. "Some of what you're about to see . . . well, it's not good." He released her and swept a hand through his hair, feeling an unreasonable urge to try to make her understand that he wasn't that person anymore. "It's just—I'm not . . ."

"I know," she said softly, laying a light hand on his arm, her simple words and action easing his nerves. He nodded stiffly, turning back to the Pensieve.

Together, they stepped forward and allowed themselves to fall gently into his memories.

* * *

Hermione was once again at Malfoy Manor, and her heart leapt in her throat upon seeing Voldemort standing in front of her. Facing him was a solemn Draco Malfoy, with Narcissa by his side. Bellatrix LeStrange stood a few feet behind Voldemort, wearing an evil smile.

"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, "the time has come for you to make up for your father's failings."

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said, his voice quiet and emotionless as he bowed his head.

"I must say"—Voldemort's lips curled—"your father has been a severe disappointment to me. His actions at the Ministry cost me the prophecy I so desperately need. He's lucky his inaptitude landed him in Azkaban . . . before I was able to reach him."

Voldemort walked towards Draco and surveyed him with his snake-like eyes. Draco shifted his feet and straightened his shoulders under Voldemort's hostile gaze as he continued. "I do hope you are prepared to serve me better. If not . . . it would be most unfortunate for you . . . and your mother." Voldemort stopped and turned his eyes toward Narcissa.

Draco gulped, but when Voldemort turned his stare back to him, he had composed himself.

"I am, my Lord," Draco said, sounding more confident now. "It will be an honor to serve you."

"We shall see." Voldemort raised his wand as Draco pulled up the sleeve of his left arm with a quick hand. Bellatrix leaned forward hungrily.

Pressing his wand to Draco's forearm, Voldemort growled a dark incantation. Black smoke shot from the end of his wand, curling up and into Draco's skin. Draco's face twisted in pain, but he made no sound as he fell to his knees. Bellatrix cackled in glee and clapped her hands like a child at a birthday party.

When Voldemort finished, he pulled his wand back and stared down at his newest recruit. "Welcome to the Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy," he said, then swept from the room.

Once Voldemort was gone, Narcissa rushed to her son and pulled him up. "Draco . . ." she gasped, choking back tears.

Draco yanked away from his mother, and Hermione could see that his eyes were red, but no tears were visible. "It's done," he said.

"Yes, it is." Bellatrix strode over, stepping between her sister and nephew, laughing wickedly. "But the fun is just beginning."

Hermione made several notes as the memory faded, knowing it was an important one. The Prosecution had already subpoenaed it for evidence, and she knew McLaggen would use Draco's detached demeanor and apparent willingness to serve Voldemort to strengthen his case. Like Draco had told her, he seemed to have taken the Dark Mark of his own accord. However, Hermione had a feeling that, although he had been willing at the time, he had not necessarily been happy about it.

The next memory came into focus, taking place in the same ornate dining room Hermione had seen in Narcissa's memory, but this time, the large dining table was filled to the brim with Death Eaters. Hermione recognized a few of them as her previous clients. Draco sat next to Bellatrix, his young age making him look incredibly out of place.

Voldemort sat at the head of the table in a large ornate chair, absentmindedly stroking his snake's, Nagini's, head.

Hermione carefully observed the younger Draco in this memory. He stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, looking completely lost. She could see the faint traces of the dark shadows already forming under his eyes. The ones she came to recognize so well at Hogwarts that year.

"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said, "the time has come for you to prove your allegiance to me." Every head at the table turned towards Draco.

Draco started slightly, then turned his gaze toward Voldemort. Draco's left sleeve was partially rolled up and Hermione could see his Dark Mark glowing against his pale skin, his fist clenched.

"I have a special task for you," Voldemort said.

Draco swallowed and nodded. "I'm ready, my Lord. How can I serve you?"

"You must kill Albus Dumbledore." Voldemort paused, placing a gentle hand under Nagini's chin. There were several jealous whispers and excited outbursts around the table from the other Death Eaters.

Draco blinked several times and licked his lips. "Yes, my Lord," he said in a hoarse voice.

"It will be ideal." Voldemort smiled, slowly turning his attention toward Draco again. "As a student, you will not arouse suspicion, but you will have easy access to Dumbledore. You must also find a way to grant your fellow Death Eaters entrance into Hogwarts." He waved his hand. "Now . . . I'm sure I needn't remind you that everyone's hourglass runs out of sand at some point. You will have until the end of your sixth year to accomplish these tasks for me. If you fail, you will pay with your life . . . and that of your mother's. Tell me, Draco, can you do what I ask of you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said again, his voice breaking slightly. Several of the Death Eaters laughed. Hermione noticed Antonin Dolohov whisper something to the Death Eater next to him, an evil gleam in his eye.

"Good," Voldemort said. "Perhaps in time, you will prove yourself to be more useful than your father."

As the memory blurred and faded, Hermione glanced at Draco to see how he was feeling reliving what were, no doubt, the worst moments of his life. His expression gave away very little, reminding her of the emotionless young man in the first memory.

"How are you doing with this?" she asked gently.

"I just want to get it over with," he said, not meeting her stare.

Hermione nodded and then observed the new memory before her. The Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. As she watched Draco's remembrances of Dumbledore's death unfold, Hermione took careful notes on important things she noticed, things she would check against Harry's memory if he let her.

The Draco in this memory seemed truly distraught to be facing the reality of murder. The desperation in his voice was apparent, and the more Dumbledore talked with him, the more he seemed to come undone.

Hermione released a short breath when she saw him lowering his wand, just as Harry had told her, before the other Death Eaters showed up and Severus Snape ultimately killed the headmaster.

Hermione had to fight back tears upon seeing the green light of the Killing Curse take the kind old wizard's life. Although Harry had relayed that horrible night for her in detail, there was something much different about watching it for herself. She had seen many terrible things in the memories of Death Eaters, but watching someone she knew and loved be murdered struck her very core.

As the memory faded away, she was relieved to see it go. She glanced at Draco beside her and saw that he also seemed to be struggling to control his emotions.

The scene switched, and once again, she was back in the room that haunted her nightmares. Her heart sped up and her breathing faltered.

 _You can do this_ , she told herself. She felt just as terrified as the time she reviewed the scene in Narcissa Malfoy's memories, only this time Hermione took small comfort in the fact that she wasn't alone. She glanced at Draco again. He looked composed once more and was watching her carefully.

"We don't need to see th—" he said, but she raised her hand in protest.

"I'm fine. And yes, we do." She drew her stare from his, regarding the setting before her.

Memory-Draco was seated in a stately chair in front of the large fireplace, gazing into the flames with a troubled expression on his face. Lucius Malfoy sat across from him, looking quite sullen himself.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Narcissa Malfoy marched in with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the group of Snatchers.

Like she had before, Hermione watched memory-Draco's expression change from unhappiness to fear as he regarded the prisoners. Once again, she noticed his stare linger on her the longest, and Hermione glanced at Draco beside her now to see if he noticed it as well. His stony expression, however, did not change.

Lucius began his demanding tirade and Hermione muttered her spell to save it as memory-Draco stared reluctantly at Harry but did not identify him. She stopped saving the memory and made several notes as memory-Draco returned to his mother's side. Narcissa began questioning him about Hermione's identity.

"I'm sorry, you know," Draco said quietly next to her. "About identifying you. I knew my mother recognized you. It was too risky to lie."

Hermione just nodded. With a crash, the door burst open, revealing Bellatrix Lestrange. Although she knew that part of the memory had been coming, Hermione foolishly dropped her quill in surprise upon seeing her.

As Hermione bent to retrieve it, Draco grabbed her arm, pulling her up. "Let's go. You have what you need."

Hermione nodded, but before he could drag her away, she planted her feet firmly on the ground. "Wait," she said, suddenly feeling like she needed to see whatever it was Narcissa had meant to show her. Somehow, having Draco beside her now made her feel brave enough to view the memory.

"Stop," she said, "I have to see . . ."

"Granger . . ." Draco sounded strained. "You don't want to see this. You got what you came for, now let's go!"

Hermione just shook her head, transfixed as an enraged Bellatrix Stupefied the Snatchers.

"Draco, move this scum outside!" Bellatrix shrieked, pointing at the unconscious Snatchers on the floor. "If you don't have the guts to finish them, leave them in the courtyard for me."

In the memory, a terrified Draco did as Bellatrix directed, levitating the bodies with his wand and hurriedly retreated from the room.

"Granger . . . Hermione," Draco pleaded beside her as they watched memory-Draco deposit the men's unconscious bodies outside. "Please, let's go. There's nothing here you need to see." He tugged on her arm to pull her away.

"No!" Hermione protested. She had come this far. She wasn't letting her fear win now. She wrenched her arm from Draco's grasp and took a few steps away from him.

As memory-Draco reentered the house, a loud lengthy scream echoed above them. Hermione cringed at the sound of herself in such agony. However, she was quickly distracted by the look of utter horror that flashed across memory-Draco's face. Upon hearing her scream, he raced up the stairs and burst through the door.

Bellatrix was hovering over Hermione, grazing her neck with a silver knife. Memory-Draco began to rush over, wand raised, when he was pulled back by Narcissa.

"Draco! No!" Narcissa whispered furiously, holding his arm tightly. "You can't help her. Bella will kill you . . . she'll kill both of you!"

Memory-Hermione screamed again and thrashed on the floor as memory-Draco's eyes darted helplessly between his mother and the tortured girl. Lucius was several feet ahead, watching Hermione's torture hungrily, oblivious of the exchange taking place between his wife and son behind him.

Hermione swayed slightly on her feet, her blood pounding in her brain. She recalled Ron's words a few nights ago. How he'd accused Draco of enjoying watching her torture. She saw now that nothing could be further from the truth. In the memory, she could clearly see how stricken he looked. She heard herself scream again.

Hermione felt the earth shift around her but was quickly supported by two strong arms almost cradling her. "Please . . ." Draco whispered in her ear. "You've seen enough."

"Draco, fetch the goblin!" Lucius turned to face Narcissa and his son now. "He can tell us whether the sword is real or not."

Narcissa's fingernails dug into memory-Draco's arms, and she pushed him forward a little. He dumbly nodded and made his way down to the cellar. Ron could be heard desperately roaring Hermione's name.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!" Memory-Draco exclaimed, no doubt trying to seem threatening as he marched into the cellar, his arm shaking terribly as he pulled Griphook out with him.

He marched back up the stairs, quickly pushed Griphook into his father's grasp, then retreated to stand by his mother again. Bellatrix let out a ferocious shriek, causing memory-Hermione to convulse painfully on the floor.

" _CRUCIO!"_

Memory-Draco pulled away from his mother's grasp, then raised his wand.  _"Stupefy,"_ he whispered.

White light from his wand traveled low on the ground, hitting Hermione's body. The light blended in with the sparks coming off Bellatrix's wand. Neither she nor Lucius appeared to notice it.

Mid-torture, Hermione's body went limp and she fell unconscious. Memory-Draco took a shaky step back, next to his mother once more, his face blank.

Shocked, Hermione stared at her unmoving form on the ground. All this time, she thought she'd passed out from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. She had no idea she'd really been Stupefied out of her misery.

Turning away from the terrible scene in front of her, she faced Draco, who was holding her tightly in his arms. His jaw clenched, he looked over her head at the memory of himself and his family.

"Draco," she gasped, "you stopped her."

Draco's gaze darted to hers, and Hermione could see the glisten of tears in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have seen that," he whispered raggedly, pressing her head against his chest, stroking her hair. "You shouldn't have had to live that again . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

Hermione felt his racing heart against her cheek. Although they were still in the memory, both she and Draco were oblivious to what was happening in it now as they clung to each other.

"Why did you help me?" Hermione asked, and Draco loosened his hold to look at her. He removed his hand from her hair, gently wiping the tears from her face.

"Because . . . I couldn't—" He shook his head. "I couldn't bear it . . ." His fingers lightly trailed across her cheek, then paused. His sad eyes searched her own, until suddenly, he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers.

Before Hermione could stop herself, she returned his desperate kiss. She wrapped her hands behind his neck and leaned into him, feeling alive and completely outside herself at the same time.

Draco groaned softly as he continued to caress her lips with his, one hand tangled in her hair, the other pressing her against him. It was the most passionate kiss of her life, feverish and demanding, and she responded fully, still wanting more.

Hermione's mind swirled so much she barely registered the sensation of the memory ending, and them being transported out of the Pensieve and back into the meeting room.

Almost as soon as their feet touched the floor, Draco guided her backward until she was pressed against the wall. She continued to melt into his kiss, which had turned deep but surprisingly gentle.

The sound of a door being thrown open startled them apart, and three guards rushed in. Two grabbed Draco and forced him out the door. Hermione saw one of the guards' fists connect with Draco's abdomen just before the door shut.

Hermione stood frozen, completely dumbfounded until the remaining guard placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked gruffly. "Did he attack you?"

"No!" She immediately tried to calm her voice. "No. It was a misunderstanding. That's all." She took a step forward and attempted to gather her belongings.

The guard eyed her dubiously. "Would you like to press charges?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes . . . I'm sure."

He nodded, then disappeared through the door as Hermione collapsed onto the chair, placing a troubled hand to her forehead.

_What just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So we finally know what happened in the rest of the memory! I'm sure most of you are not surprised to find out that Draco helped her. I thought long and hard about a way he could have done it that could still (I think?) be canon with the books. So I will just go on pretending it really happened this way 😉
> 
> I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this chapter! Don't be shy. I promise to get a Chapter Preview up on my social accounts by end of day.  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/).
> 
> In other news, my debut novel, Desperate Forest, was released yesterday on Amazon in Kindle and paperback! If you enjoy my writing, check it out here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RK6MKX6
> 
> Synopsis: Running for her life, Princess Roselynn must take her chances in a treacherous forest—all to be reunited with the man she loves. Along the way, she encounters a group of outlaws, each with their own secrets and purpose. But who can she trust? The lines between ally and enemy are blurred, causing her to question what she knows and where her heart lies. Can she find the courage to save her kingdom and herself, or will she lose everything to the dark forest? ~ Kindle eBook is $2.99 and Kindle Unlimited members can read for free.


	17. Questions

The two guards threw Draco into his cell, where he landed on the cold stone floor, then slammed the door shut, locking it behind them.

He got up and sat on his cot, placing his head in his hands.

_What did I just do?_

He could feel bruises forming from where the guards had hit him, but the pain was dull compared to the sensation Hermione's kiss had left on his lips.

He rubbed his face with his hands, then exhaled loudly, throwing himself back on his bed.

Their kiss had been amazing. Unfortunately, it had also probably just cost him his one chance of getting out of Azkaban. He could only assume Hermione was making arrangements to remove herself from his case at that very moment. She was probably fuming.

Although . . . she had kissed him back. There was no doubt about that.

What had started as an emotional impulse had quickly escalated to something real. At least, it felt real to him.

He sighed. What was he thinking, kissing her like that? Not only was it completely inappropriate because of their professional relationship, it was also impossible.

Their history was painful, their present was strained, and their future was nonexistent.

Reliving the memory of her torture had been agony. He felt more horrified over the abuse she'd endured that night than ever before. Then, he had hated watching it because he knew she was a decent, innocent girl. Now, he hated it so much more because he felt something for her. He had gotten to know her and genuinely cared about her.

Looking back, he didn't know exactly why he had tried to help her. It had been a reckless move on his part. If Bellatrix or his father had found out, he probably would have been tortured or killed himself.

His actions didn't make him a hero. That much he knew. But now, he couldn't help but wish he'd stopped the whole thing in the beginning. Saved her all that pain. Even if it meant he would have received it instead.

The thought confused him. He'd spent most of his life caring only about himself and his family. What was it about that girl that made him want to be better? The question danced in his mind until he could make no sense of it.

One thing was certain. His already fragile relationship with Hermione Granger had just gotten much more complicated.

* * *

When Hermione returned to her office that afternoon, she felt agitated and extremely confused.

Of all the problems she'd imagined upon becoming Draco Malfoy's Inquisitor, kissing him certainly hadn't been one of them.

She slammed her files down on her desk and sank into her chair with an irritated groan.

She was  _not_  falling for Draco Malfoy . . . was she?

The thought was almost laughable. After all, he was a terrible person. She shook her head. Maybe he had been. But now, she didn't think so.

Regardless of that, they now had a professional relationship which made what happened between them completely inappropriate.

_What is wrong with me?_

She always maintained a safe, professional distance from her clients. Despite what others thought, she'd never been in danger of caring too much before. But now, she knew she was.

She remembered how she had felt just moments before Draco kissed her. Horrified at reliving her worst memory, but somehow, his presence made her brave enough to face it. And then, everything she'd thought she knew about that evening changed.

She had not been completely alone in the room that night. Draco was the unexpected ally she never knew she had. Discovering that, her view of him immediately shifted. He was no longer the boy she loathed all her life, but instead, a broken man just as trapped as she was.

When she asked him why he'd done it, she'd seen real pain in his eyes. And she couldn't explain it, but instantly, she knew they needed each other. They both were searching for comfort and, perhaps, deliverance.

That's why, when Draco's lips had found hers, she hadn't pushed him away. Oddly enough, it felt right. She'd returned his fervor to find that what should have felt like a serious lapse in judgment, instead, felt like renewal.

Draco's kiss had been perfect, although she cringed admitting it to herself. While it had started out almost frantic, when Hermione had responded, Draco had firmly but tenderly made her feel truly alive. It had been intoxicating in a way she'd never experienced before.

What scared her most was, if the guards hadn't interrupted them, she wasn't sure she would have ever wanted to stop kissing him.

A knock on her door interrupted her troubled mind.

"Come in," she said automatically.

The door cracked open and Harry poked his head in. "Can you talk now?"

"Of course." She said, feeling guilty, sure he would somehow know what just happened between her and Draco.

Harry sat down in the chair across from her and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said and . . . I decided I'll do it. I'll testify for Draco Malfoy."

"Really?" Hermione looked at him in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "I wasn't at first, but . . . I talked to him the other day."

"You did? Why?"

"He requested to meet with an Auror. To let us know that Dolohov threatened you. Malfoy didn't specifically say it, but he seemed genuinely worried about you."

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione felt her face flush, and she wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or flattered by Draco's concern. "I'm sure it's an empty threat."

"Probably. But I'm going to have a few Aurors periodically checking your place just to be safe. And let me or one of your other friends go with you if you need to go out at night."

"I can take care of myself, Harry," Hermione said.

"I know, but Malfoy does have a lot of enemies and one of them could come after you . . . It doesn't hurt to be careful. I'm just relieved Malfoy had the good sense to let the Auror Department know what Dolohov said."

"Fine." Hermione let out an agitated breath. "Do your checks, and I promise I'll be extra cautious."

"Good." Harry leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad you're being reasonable."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "It's not like I have much choice with you and Malfoy ganging up on me."

Harry gave a short laugh. "Yeah, I didn't see that coming . . . Who'd have thought we'd ever agree on something?"

"My heroes . . ." Hermione rolled her eyes, then turned serious. "So, you're really going to testify for him?"

Harry nodded. "I trust you. If you honestly think he deserves a second chance, then I'll share what I know if you think it will help."

"It will." Hermione was certain of that.

"Okay, just let me know what you need from me . . . but let me tell Ron. He's going to be furious."

Hermione swallowed, knowing it was true. She felt a new wave of guilt sweep over her. And then it hit her.

She should no longer be Draco Malfoy's Inquisitor. Not after what just happened between them and the rise of her new confusing feelings. She should tell Shacklebolt immediately and remove herself from the case.

But if she did that, Harry would want to know why. She'd have to tell him, and he'd be irate. He'd never testify for Draco then. That fact, combined with the sorry excuse of a new Defense Inquisitor he'd be assigned, meant Draco would almost certainly be sentenced. Especially with Cormac McLaggen acting as Prosecuting Inquisitor. Draco wouldn't stand a chance.

"Are you okay?" Harry eyed her.

"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione quickly assured him. "I've just had a very busy day. But that's great news. It will really help his case. All you need to do is tell the truth."

"If you're sure . . ."

"Yes, I am. Thank you, Harry. Trust me, Malfoy has changed."

Harry stood up and headed for the door. "It's hard to believe. . ." He shook his head. "He has no idea how lucky he is to have you as his Inquisitor."

Hermione smiled weakly as Harry headed out the door.

When he was gone, she sighed, but resolutely pushed herself out of her chair to grab her files and continue working.

She would not take herself off Draco Malfoy's case. To do so would ruin everything she'd worked so hard for and mean an almost definite conviction for him.

She just needed to forget about what had happened between them today. And she could. Whatever she was feeling for him was inconsequential. Anything more than a professional relationship could never exist.

Pushing all other thoughts from her mind, Hermione was certain of two things.

Draco Malfoy deserved a second chance, and she was the only one who could give it to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter, Hermione and Draco meet again! Chapter preview is already live 😊 Links in bio or search me by my user names:
> 
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor
> 
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been following and commenting on this story! You make my heart happy :)


	18. You'll See

When Draco entered the meeting room the next day, Hermione barely glanced up from her papers, but she immediately began talking a mile a minute.

"Harry's agreed to testify, which is very good news." Her quill scratched furiously on parchment. "He'll be sharing his memories and giving a statement. Besides him and Luna, I'll also be putting your mother on the stand to talk about your childhood. Also, I think it will help everyone remember what she did for Harry. The Prosecution has Katie Bell testifying against you. Ron, however, is not and—"

"Do you always talk this much when you're nervous?" Draco couldn't help but smirk as he sat down.

"I'm not nervous," she hissed, then swore as the quill she had been writing with snapped in her grip.

"Could've fooled me." He laughed. All morning, he had been anxiously wondering if Hermione was going to show up and what he would say to her if she did. Clearly, he needn't have worried so much. She was going to be awkward enough for both of them.

Draco cleared his throat. "I do want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was way out of line. Honestly, I'm surprised to see you today—I thought you'd have washed your hands of me. But if you're still willing to represent me, I promise nothing like that will happen again."

"It's fine." Hermione sighed, procuring a new quill from her bag. "We were both emotional and confused. I'm not angry, it was just . . . a mistake."

"Right." He nodded. A mistake. He was sure it had been that way for her.  _Probably the first one she's made in her life._

But for him? He'd made more than his fair share of mistakes. Enough to know that, whatever it was, kissing Hermione Granger had certainly not felt like a mistake.

* * *

Hermione was genuinely surprised at Draco's sincere apology. She'd expected him to ignore the incident. Or if he were being like the old Draco, maybe taunt her about it. Instead, he seemed genuinely concerned that she was upset. And to her relief, he seemed as determined to move past it as she was.

Before Hermione could stop herself, more words flowed from her mouth. "I, uh, want to thank you for what you did for me at the Manor . . . I had no idea—"

"Don't," Draco said.

"Don't what?" She was confused by the anger in his tone.

"Don't act like I'm some sort of hero. Because I'm not. And you shouldn't have even seen that."

"Why not? Because you don't want me knowing you're a decent person?" Hermione felt her frustration rising. "Because it's a break in the selfish façade you portray to the world? You did a good thing—why can't I acknowledge it?"

"Please," he scoffed, "you think Potter would have let Bellatrix lay a finger on you if he'd been standing where I was? Or even Weasley, for that matter? No, they would have happily gotten killed trying to protect you. I barely did anything . . . and not nearly soon enough." He pointed a finger in her face. "So don't you  _dare_  act like you should be grateful to me! That's the last thing you should feel toward me. I don't even know why I did it."

"It's natural to want to help someone who's being hurt," Hermione said, still perplexed by his reaction. "And you're right, Harry and Ron would have done something rash to try to save me and probably gotten us all killed in the process. You were smart—you helped me without escalating the situation."

She reached across the table to place her hand over his. "You  _are_  a good person, Draco . . . whether you want to admit it or not. You were just never given the opportunity to explore that goodness."

He pulled his hand away, not meeting her gaze, instead looking off to the side.

"Can we talk about something else?" His voice sounded strained.

"Of course," Hermione said softly.

* * *

Hermione was working in her office that afternoon when a sharp knock sounded on her door.

"Come in," she said.

Narcissa Malfoy entered. "Miss Granger, I received your owl saying you wanted to see me."

"Yes. Thank you for coming." Hermione laid down her quill. "Have a seat."

"I'm assuming you'd like to talk to me about Draco's case."

"Yes." Hermione pulled out Draco's file. "Harry Potter has agreed to testify on his behalf—"

"That's wonderful!" Narcissa exclaimed, showing far more emotion than Hermione had ever seen from her before.

"It is good news . . . but it might not be enough. I would like to put you on the stand. Have you explain Draco's upbringing, and perhaps share some of your memories. Similar to the ones you showed me, but specifically anything related to Lucius's glorification of Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"Of course. I'll help in any way I can."

"Good. Would you be free to come in tomorrow at this time, so we could get started on your testimony?"

"Yes, that would be agreeable." Narcissa paused. "I take it you viewed the memories I shared with you, then?"

"I did . . . all except the last one. Although I think I saw what you wanted me to see in Draco's memory." Hermione's face flushed slightly as she remembered her and Draco's heated kiss.

"So you know that he helped you?"

"Yes."  _And I know you didn't want him to_ , Hermione thought but held back from saying it.

Narcissa pursed her lips. "I suppose you think poorly of me."

Hermione stared at her. Had Narcissa read her mind?

Before she could reply, Narcissa went on. "Tell me, Miss Granger, have you ever been in love?"

"I . . ." Hermione was unsure how to answer the strange question. Her love life wasn't exactly something she thought she'd ever discuss with Narcissa Malfoy. The porcelain woman seemed unfazed, blinking slowly as she waited for an answer. "Yes," Hermione said finally, thinking of Ron. "I was once . . . but it ended. It wasn't a very healthy relationship."

"Sometimes love isn't." Narcissa smiled wryly. "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought . . . I loved Draco's father dearly. We were very young when we met. We had an arranged marriage like most pureblood families did at the time. But I was quite taken with Lucius—he was confidant, strong, handsome, and came from a powerful and wealthy family."

Narcissa took a deep breath. "We were married, and I thought myself very lucky. For a while, we were happy together. I stood by Lucius faithfully—even when he did things I didn't agree with. It was expected of me and . . . I didn't want to disappoint him."

Narcissa gave a sad smile. "When Draco was young, he wanted so much to be like his father. At first, that made me proud. After all, I loved them both and it seemed only natural. But as time went on, I started to notice that in many ways, Draco was not like his father. He was kinder . . . warmer. He craved affection and approval. Of course, his father saw that as weakness, but I didn't."

Hermione nodded, realizing she had seen those characteristics in Draco herself, even though he tried to hide them. "Did Lucius love you and Draco?" Hermione wasn't sure if she was asking for Narcissa's sake or Draco's. She felt a fresh wave of anger toward Lucius Malfoy for his treatment of his wife and son.

"Oh, yes, he did . . . in his own way." Narcissa folded her hands. "But he loved his ambition more. As time went on, I began to question the direction Lucius had taken our family. But it was too late then. So all my energy turned toward Draco—to keeping him safe." She lifted her chin. "I suppose it was wrong of me, but I didn't care what else happened in the process. He was all that mattered."

"I see," Hermione said, pondering Narcissa's story. She realized now why Narcissa's demeanor seemed so cold and indifferent. For years, she had cared for only one person. Everything else in her life was a shadow compared to her love for her son. No wonder she had betrayed Voldemort, saving Harry's life in the process. If Draco had been dead that day like Narcissa feared, she would have had nothing left to lose.

Finally, Hermione met the blonde woman's eyes. "I think I understand . . . Draco's very lucky to have you."

Narcissa nodded, seemingly satisfied, and got up to leave.

Hermione had already turned back to her notes when Narcissa paused in the doorway.

"I never understood why he acted the way he did about you," Narcissa said. "It was strange . . . But I think I do now."

"Excuse me?" Hermione looked up to find Narcissa staring at her.

"You'll see," the confusing woman said before sweeping out the door, leaving a very perplexed Hermione behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The trial begins next chapter! Who’s excited? As always, you can catch a sneak peek on one of my social media channels (Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor, Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor, Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews).
> 
> Desperate Forest ebook is on sale this week for $0.99 on Amazon! If you’ve been thinking of checking it out, now’s a great time. As always, Kindle Unlimited members can read it for free. Just search “Desperate Forest” or “Cece Louise” on Amazon.com or go here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RK6MKX6
> 
> Synopsis: Running for her life, Princess Roselynn must take her chances in a treacherous forest—all to be reunited with the man she loves. Along the way, she encounters a group of outlaws, each with their own secrets and purpose. But who can she trust? The lines between ally and enemy are blurred, causing her to question what she knows and where her heart lies. Can she find the courage to save her kingdom and herself, or will she lose everything to the dark forest?


	19. The Trial

The next two weeks were a busy blur of meetings with witnesses, piecing together Narcissa's and Draco's memories, and the overall strengthening of Draco's case. Now the day was finally here that Hermione had been both dreading and anticipating. The start of Draco Malfoy's trial.

Hermione arrived early to the Wizengamot, making sure everything she needed was in place. She hadn't been there more than ten minutes when Cormac McLaggen arrived, looking every bit as lecherous as she remembered.

"Hermione Granger . . . so we meet again," he said, blatantly eyeing her up and down.

"McLaggen." She nodded briefly.

"Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?" He sneered. "Although I suppose you've had enough of 'old friends' these last few weeks, haven't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Draco Malfoy—even I know what he was like toward you at Hogwarts. Can't imagine why on earth Shacklebolt would have assigned you to his case . . . or why you would agree to it." He said the last words carefully, almost accusingly.

She sighed. "As you well know, McLaggen, I treat all my clients fairly and impartially. Draco Malfoy is no different."

"Really?" He licked his lips. "Well, I guess we'll see about that, won't we?"

Before Hermione could retort, he strode to the opposite side of the courtroom.

_He really is the worst . . ._

* * *

An hour later, the trial was about to begin. The Wizengamot had all taken their places, with Minister Shacklebolt in his residing position.

The viewing seats were filled to the brim, mostly with journalists and reporters, but Hermione guessed there were others there as well—namely enemies of the Malfoy family awaiting blood.

Harry, Luna, and Narcissa Malfoy were all seated in the row behind her. She turned and gave Harry a grateful smile.

"Witches and Wizards of the court," Shacklebolt's voice boomed across the courtroom. "Let's begin. Please bring in the defendant."

Two large doors opened on the left and Draco Malfoy was led in, still wearing his familiar Azkaban uniform with the addition of handcuffs and shackles around his feet. As he sat down in the lone seat in the middle of the courtroom, he caught Hermione's eye and she gave him an encouraging smile.

Draco swallowed nervously, then turned his attention back to Shacklebolt. Hermione noticed that he looked even paler than normal.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you're here today to face the criminal charges brought against you by the Wizard's Court of Law." Shacklebolt continued by reading Draco's charges one by one. When he was finished, he looked back at Draco. "Do you understand what you have been accused of?"

"Yes, Minister."

Shacklebolt nodded. "I will call the Prosecution Inquisitor to make his opening statement."

Cormac McLaggen strode to the front of the room, shooting a steely look at Draco, then a smug one at Hermione, and began. "Draco Malfoy was the youngest Death Eater to ever join their ranks. Now, the defense will have you believe that this fact, somehow, makes the defendant a victim. However, I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

McLaggen raised his voice. "Draco Malfoy entered so quickly into Voldemort's servitude because he was passionate about Voldemort's cause. He even bragged to his fellow classmates about being 'chosen' by Voldemort to accomplish a special task. A task that we know now was to be cold-blooded murder of one of the most esteemed wizards of our time—Albus Dumbledore.

"While Mr. Malfoy may not have accomplished the mission he so proudly set out to do, he did almost kill two innocent students in the process, and ultimately orchestrated the events that led to Dumbledore's death. Mr. Malfoy went so far as to endanger the lives of every student at Hogwarts by letting a band of Death Eaters—and a vicious werewolf—into the school the night Dumbledore died."

McLaggen glanced at Draco. "Finally, Draco Malfoy lived out his role as a Death Eater so well that he even took part in torturing members of his own cause." He returned his somber gaze to the Wizengamot. "That, my friends, is the type of monster we are dealing with here. One who is so depraved that he would even turn on his own ally at a moment's whim."

McLaggen took a deep breath. "So I ask of you, members of the Wizengamot, would you have a dangerous criminal like this released back into our society? Would you put to risk everything so many of us sacrificed to end the reign of Voldemort? As you well know, many Death Eaters are still on the run, just waiting for the opportunity to band together again and release terror upon us all, especially Muggle-born wizards and witches like dear Miss Granger here." Cormac paused a moment to shoot Hermione a winning smile before continuing.

"Draco Malfoy, who has followed in his father's footsteps since the day he was born, would only be too eager to take his place and lead the Death Eaters. As we progress through this case, I will prove to you exactly why you should put Mr. Malfoy in Azkaban where he belongs for the remainder of his life. Thank you."

McLaggen turned and walked back to his seat. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he settled back in his chair with exaggerated casualness.

"Now, the Defense Inquisitor, please." Shacklebolt invited Hermione to make her statement. She smoother her skirt and patted her sleek hair, which was pulled up in a bun. She stood and headed toward the center of the room with her head held high.

Hermione cleared her throat and addressed the Wizengamot. "What the prosecution said is true, Draco Malfoy was the youngest wizard ever to take the Dark Mark and become an official member of the Death Eaters. However, the reason Mr. Malfoy chose to do this is much different than what the prosecution would have you believe.

"Upon his father's first imprisonment in Azkaban, Draco Malfoy was commanded by Voldemort to join his ranks in Lucius Malfoy's place and serve him loyally. The first task he required of him was, indeed, to kill Albus Dumbledore. The consequences for refusing or failing were simple: be killed and have his family be killed as well."

As she spoke, Hermione was careful to make eye contact with each member of the Wizengamot. "At only sixteen years old, Draco Malfoy was forced to make a choice so horrifying, most of us would pray to never be put in that position.

"I will not lie to you, most of the charges brought against the defendant are, in essence, factual. But what I have learned, and what I will share with you throughout this trial, is the reason Mr. Malfoy committed these crimes was not out of evil, but rather an instinct to preserve the lives of those he loved, and to survive himself."

She spread her hands. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy was indoctrinated with the cause of the Death Eaters at a young age. And yes, he was passionate about it at one time. But when the time came for him to act upon everything he'd been taught to believe, his heart was not in it. At that point, he did not want to serve Voldemort anymore, and he didn't want to murder or hurt anyone. He simply wanted to keep his family safe during a time of war.

"All I ask is that the Wizengamot keeps an open mind and looks at the facts throughout this case. Facts that will speak for themselves and show that Mr. Malfoy is not a danger to society, but rather, a potential asset. Thank you."

As Hermione stepped down after making her opening statement, the prosecution was invited to call their first witness forward.

McLaggen stood up and said, "The prosecution would like to request special permission to question Inquisitor Hermione Granger."

An audible murmur of disbelief spread throughout the courtroom over the fact that the prosecution was looking to question the Defense Inquisitor.

"Inquisitor McLaggen," Minister Shacklebolt said, "this is a highly irregular request."

"I understand. However, I have a very specific and grave reason for doing this. And to support my request, I would like to reference a case from 1956, the Wizengamot versus Josiah Trollwood, where the Prosecution Inquisitor was allowed to question the Defense Inquisitor, who was then proven to be acting under the Imperius Curse." McLaggen placed a sheet of paper in front of Minister Shacklebolt, who reviewed it.

"Permission granted," Shacklebolt said, folding his hands.

Hermione attempted to remain calm as she stepped forward, all the while wondering what McLaggen was playing at by calling her up there.

"Miss Granger," Cormac said smoothly, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. "Could you state your relationship with the defendant?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "As you well know, I am the Ministry-appointed Inquisitor for his defense."

"And tell me, have you only ever had a professional relationship with Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, I also knew him during my time at Hogwarts."

"I see . . . And what was your relationship like then?"

"It wasn't very good."

"Ah, no, I can't imagine it would have been, given the defendant's distasteful view on Muggle-borns." McLaggen tapped his chin. "However, I'm sure the court would like to know, just when did your romantic relationship with your client begin?"

A loud murmur rose throughout the courtroom as Hermione stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"Miss Granger, I have the testimony of three Azkaban guards stating that they saw you and Mr. Malfoy engaging in romantic behavior three weeks ago in the meeting room of Azkaban."

The murmur from the crowd now changed to gasps and outcries. Above the din, Hermione clearly heard Luna's voice exclaim happily, "Oh, how nice!"

"We do not have a romantic relationship," Hermione said indignantly, all the while knowing this was headed somewhere dangerous fast.

"Really? So, you deny that you were seen kissing your client? Interesting . . . Well, I have credible memories from the guards showing quite the opposite. Memories I would be more than happy to share with the court."

"That was nothing," Hermione insisted, although she felt her face flush.

"So, I take it Mr. Malfoy forced himself on you then? Hardly the behavior of someone we would want to reintegrate back into our society, now is it?"

"That's not what happened—"

"But then again, I also have the testimony of one guard saying you denied that Mr. Malfoy attacked you and that you were most adamant about not pressing charges."

"It was a misunderstanding—"

"So, you don't deny the accusation." McLaggen paused, looking grim, although Hermione knew he was relishing every second of her humiliation. "Miss Granger, I think I speak for the entire Wizengamot when I say such behavior will not be tolerated in our justice system." He turned to the Wizengamot. "Minister Shacklebolt, I formally request that Miss Granger be removed as the Defense Inquisitor of this case, officially investigated for misconduct, and Mr. Malfoy's trial be rescheduled until another Defense Inquisitor can be found for him."

Shacklebolt quieted the outcries in the courtroom and then boomed, "Request granted. Draco Malfoy's trial will be rescheduled once new representation has been found. Court dismissed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, what are your thoughts? I’m curious if anyone saw Hermione getting kicked off the case coming or not. What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know in one of your lovely comments!
> 
> If you’re itching for a little more check out the chapter preview on my social media. (It opens with Narcissa being Narcissa XD) Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor, Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor, Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews
> 
> Today is the last day to get Desperate Forest for $0.99 in the Kindle store on Amazon! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RK6MKX6


	20. Aftershocks

“When I told you to seduce her, I didn’t think you’d take me so literally.”

“Mother . . .” Draco sighed. When he’d been informed that he had a visitor after the disaster in court, he hoped it would be Hermione. He could only imagine how she was feeling right now. Did she even still have a job?

Upon seeing his mother sitting there instead, Draco realized there was a very good chance he would never see Hermione Granger again. She probably hated him.

“That’s not what happened, Mother, and you know it,” he said.

“Do I?” Narcissa raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Draco, you’ve never been reasonable when it comes to that girl. Now she’s likely cost you your one chance of getting out of here.”

“It’s not her fault!”

“Really? So, you take full responsibility, then? At least you’re finally willing to admit your feelings for her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco said, folding his arms.

“Draco, please, give me some credit. I’m your mother, after all. You were never impartial to her.” Draco set his jaw but didn’t speak as his mother went on. “Everything . . . the Quidditch World Cup, failing to identify Potter, not killing Albus Dumbledore—I was happy about all of that, you know. It showed there was still goodness in you. But it was more than that . . . it was because of her.”

Narcissa patted his hand, then sighed and stood up.

“I hope she’s worth it,” she said, before walking out the door.

* * *

 

“Miss Granger, I must say, I’m quite shocked.”

“Minister Shacklebolt, please let me explain,” Hermione said, feeling absolutely mortified.

Shacklebolt folded his hands. “All right, I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t entirely forthright with you that day when I asked to be removed from Draco Malfoy’s case. Our bad history at Hogwarts was certainly true, but there was something else.”

“A relationship?”

“No! Merlin, no . . .” Hermione took a deep breath and recounted her story, starting with her torture at the hands of Bellatrix at the Manor, finishing with how she and Draco had kissed after she’d discovered that Draco had helped her.

Hermione shook her head. “I should have removed myself from the case immediately. I was about to, but then Harry agreed to testify. I didn’t want Draco to lose Harry’s testimony, so I kept quiet. Draco and I agreed what happened between us was a mistake, and I swear, our relationship has been nothing but professional ever since. I guess I thought we could move past it and just pretend it never happened. I know it was wrong of me.”

Shacklebolt was silent for a long time, then he finally nodded his head.

“I think I understand.” Shacklebolt folded his hands under his chin. “I do hold myself partially responsible for this messy situation. I should have listened to you originally when you asked not to take on the case. Now, there will need to be an investigatory hearing on this matter to confirm what you just told me, but I don’t think you will have too much to worry about. But until then, you are to have no contact with Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione nodded.

“I was going to wait until after the trial to tell you, but I already filed the paperwork last week to move you to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as Head Mediator. I’ve known for a while that is where your true passion lies, and I believe your experience as a Defense Inquisitor will serve you well to implement the laws and statutes for those most in need.”

Shacklebolt tapped his chin. “Given this situation, I believe it would be prudent not to hesitate but to move you there immediately. There might be some backlash after this, but I will do my best to ease the situation. You have earned this role, Miss Granger, I have no doubt about that. I know you will do great things with it.”

Hermione was amazed. She’d entered Shacklebolt’s office thinking she would be getting fired and had instead gotten a promotion. It was unbelievable.

Of course, she knew she would face pushback from some of her colleagues over the scandal that was soon to be splashed all over the tabloids, but she didn’t care. She knew she had, indeed, earned this promotion and was ready to prove herself in her new role.

“Thank you, Minister.” Hermione nodded. “I’m extremely grateful for this opportunity, and I will do everything I can to earn your confidence in me again.”

Shacklebolt smiled. “I’m sure you will. Now I think it would be best if you took the rest of the week off and let some of the commotion die down. You can start your new position on Monday.”

Hermione thanked him again and got up to leave. Before she reached the door, she stopped.

“Minister . . . what will happen with Draco’s case?”

“I already put in a request with the American Ministry of Magic to send extra Inquisitors to help with the influx of cases we’ve had. Voldemort’s reign barely touched over there. I’ll appoint one of them to replace you.”

Hermione nodded, thinking it was the best she could have hoped for Draco. At least, he would not be left at the mercy of one of her corrupt colleagues. She hoped whoever he got would be able to take on McLaggen.

As Hermione went to Floo home, she hesitated. She wanted to go to Azkaban and see how Draco was doing. He was probably extremely apprehensive about his future now.

But she knew she couldn’t. Any contact with him was out of the question until she had her misconduct hearing. Plus, if the media frenzy she’d been attacked by outside the courtroom was any indication, her every move was going to be watched until another more exciting story broke. In the meantime, it would be better for Draco if she didn’t go anywhere near him. Doing so would only fuel the fire to the rumors that were sure to be swirling.

She sighed as she threw a handful of Floo powder down. What a mess this case had turned into. Would all her hard work be for nothing? Would Draco get a fair chance now?

Her heart was heavy as she stepped into her apartment that afternoon. She should have been extremely happy to have finally reached the end of her career defending Death Eaters. But she couldn’t help feeling sad that she hadn’t been able to complete the one case that really meant something to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m giving away a limited number of review copies of my ebook Desperate Forest! If you’re interested, comment or PM me. All I ask is that you consider leaving an honest review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short. The next one is longer. We get to see Draco’s new Inquisitor (find out who in my chapter preview) as well as Harry, Ginny, and Ron! Chapter preview is live on my social media pages.
> 
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews


	21. Real Life

On Monday, Draco entered the meeting room to find a dark-haired young man seated in Hermione’s spot. He was relieved that he didn’t recognize him, although that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t someone who had a grudge against him or his father.

“Good morning, Mr. Malfoy,” the young man greeted him. Draco noticed he had an American accent. “I’m Steven Carmichael, your new Defense Inquisitor. Have a seat.”

“You’re American?” Draco asked.

Steven smiled. “Yes, with so many cases going on right now, the European Ministry is bringing in American Inquisitors to help with the load. I arrived on Friday.”

Draco nodded, feeling extremely relieved. It was probably the best scenario he could have hoped for. Although, he was a little worried because Steven didn’t look much older than him. Did he even have any experience? Of course, Hermione was young too, but she was unique.

“You don’t look very old . . .” Draco eyed Steven critically.

Steven laughed. “Graduated top of my class at Ilvermorny three years ago. Got all O’s on my N.E.W.T.s and landed a highly competitive internship at the Magical Congress of America. And I’ve won the majority of my cases . . . You’re in good hands, Mr. Malfoy.”

That was a relief. Although Draco had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Carmichael sounded like he was just as much of an overachiever as Granger.

_He’s probably her soulmate._

Draco frowned, envisioning the two of them as a power-couple with a perfect house full of accolades and polite little know-it-all children. Although, he begrudgingly conceded, Steven seemed like the type of guy she deserved. Not like those morons she usually went out with.

Oblivious to Draco’s unhappy musings, Steven referred to a sheet of parchment with Hermione’s handwriting and began asking Draco questions, taking his own notes.

“I don’t plan on changing much with my defense,” Steven said after they finished going over the basics of Draco’s case. “Miss Granger did a wonderful job building a solid case for you but, I must warn you, because of the nature of her dismissal from your case, your trial is likely to be a bit of a media circus.”

Draco groaned, knowing what Steven said was true. As if the wizarding world needed another reason to hate him. Now he could be blamed for corrupting the Golden Trio’s princess. Everyone would be out for his blood.

“So basically, if we lose, I may actually be safer in Azkaban,” Draco said dryly.

Steven gave a short laugh, adjusting his reading glasses. “Let’s try to think positively, hey? Now, Luna Lovegood returned my owl saying she’ll still testify, and your mother will, of course, but I haven’t heard back from Harry Potter yet.”

Draco was not surprised. He was sure Harry would not be testifying anymore. Potter would be furious knowing that Draco had kissed Hermione, especially because her job was likely in jeopardy over it.

There was a time when Draco would have loved nothing more than to irritate Potter so much. He would have enjoyed smugly rubbing it in his face. But now, not only had Draco just lost his best defense for his case, he also knew Hermione would be getting nothing but grief from her friends. Draco hoped she had good sense to blame the whole thing on him.

While Steven droned on about his plans for the case, Draco found himself struggling to concentrate on his monotone voice. It was difficult because his thoughts kept straying to Hermione. Now that she was no longer a regular part of his life, he realized he missed her.

While he would have liked to blame it on his lack of human company, he knew that wasn’t what it really was. After all, his mother still visited him daily, and he had Steven to talk to right now.

It didn’t matter though. He wanted to talk to Hermione.

It wasn’t just that Steven was boring, but Draco realized anyone would be boring compared to her.

He missed coming into the room and trying to guess what kind of mood she was in, based on her expression and the state of her crazy hair. He missed the way she bit her bottom lip when she was concentrating. He missed how she would take the time to ask him about the things he’d been reading in her Hogwarts textbooks, then answer any questions he had. He missed how she would talk to him about what was going on in the world, her animated voice making him somehow feel like he was a part of it.

He missed everything about her and, what was most painful of all, he had no idea if he’d ever see her again.

Draco wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come to see him or written since the disastrous court day last week. Reporters were watching her every move and if she dared come within fifty feet of him, the media would be all over it.

Every day since Hermione had been dismissed as his lawyer, Draco’s mother had come to see him with news articles claiming to have all the details of his and Hermione’s “relationship.” The lies they printed were outrageous, although at times, entertaining.

He wondered how Hermione was faring out in the real world. Probably not great. Any contact she had with Draco would simply exacerbate the situation.

“I think that’s everything we need to cover today,” Steven said finally and began gathering his things. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Draco got up to leave, then stopped himself. “Steven, do you know . . . how is Hermione Granger?”

Steven looked at Draco as he removed  his glasses. “I heard she’s been moved into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Not where I would want to be, but apparently, she has quite a passion for that area of work. In fact, it sounds like it was a promotion.”

Draco released a relieved breath. So she hadn’t been fired. That was good. He was happy she was finally working where she really wanted to.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Draco said. “It sounds perfect for her—she’ll love it.”

As he was escorted back to his cell, he was comforted by the fact that he, at least, hadn’t ruined her life along with his.

* * *

As Hermione Flooed home Monday evening, she was exhausted. Her first day as Head Mediator for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been tough, especially with the mixture of curious and hostile stares she received from her new co-workers, but she knew she’d be much happier working there.

When Hermione arrived at her flat, she was greeted by an owl waiting patiently at her window. She looked at the message tied to its leg. It was from Ginny.

_Hermione,_

_Stop avoiding us. We’re coming over tonight and bringing dinner! Don’t write back pretending you have plans, because we know you can’t even leave your flat right now._

_\- Ginny_

_P.S. Is it true? Did Malfoy make a move on you? How was it? (Don’t answer that question around Harry and Ron, but I want to know.)_

_P.P.S. I saw a picture of him and he_ is _still hot. I knew it._

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend’s audacity while simultaneously fighting back a smile. Only Ginny. She wrote a quick reply.

_Ginny,_

_Dinner sounds great, thanks. See you then._

_-Hermione_

_P.S. I’m not answering that question at all._

As much as Hermione was not looking forward to what was sure to be a very awkward conversation with her friends, she was eager for the company. She was also grateful they were bringing dinner because she had almost no food left in her fridge. Like Ginny said, she’d barely been able to leave her apartment since the trial due to reporters hounding her for details about her and Draco’s “relationship.”

Even without her saying a word, every news source had posted a variety of outrageous articles about them, each more ridiculous than the last. She glanced at the stack that had been delivered that morning.

_In Love with a Death Eater? Hermione Granger’s Traitorous Escapades Reach New Heights._

That one was written by Rita Skeeter. After registering herself as an Animagus a few years ago, she had returned to slandering Hermione at any opportunity, being the first one to paint her as a traitor given her job defending Death Eaters.

_Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy’s Torrid Love Affair: Read All the Details Here!_

She sighed. That one was quite ironic considering Draco’s sarcastic quip a few weeks ago. She almost wished she could owl it to him.

_Granger and Malfoy’s Secret Love Child, Plus Another on the Way!_

Hermione cringed at the clearly fake rendering of a toddler with an awkward mashup of her and Draco’s features. The poor child was incredibly pale with a pointy nose and chin, a huge mess of brown curly hair, large teeth, and dark brown eyes. On the sidebar was a picture of an incredibly disgruntled Hermione looking nine months pregnant.

Hermione tossed the articles in the trash, then heard her friends arrive through her Floo.

“Do you guys want wine?” she called out from her kitchen, grabbing a bottle and four glasses. She knew she was going to need some.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea since you’re about to give birth to Malfoy’s spawn?” Ron said petulantly, crossing his arms as he sank down on her couch.

“I’ll have one,” Ginny said, flipping through a copy of the same magazine Hermione had just tossed in the trash. She cringed. “Ugh, don’t worry, I’m sure your and Malfoy’s real kids would be much better looking than that.”

“Ginny!” Harry scolded his fiancée.

“Honestly . . .” Hermione sighed. “Throw that out. It’s a bunch of rubbish!”

“Is it?” Ron glared at her.

“Yes, Ronald, do I look pregnant to you? Or have a terrifying child running around my flat?”

“Well, obviously that’s lies.” Harry inclined his head towards the article Ginny was reading. “But there must be some truth to the story for you to be removed from his case . . . What’s going on, Hermione?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all, really, it’s been blown way out of proportion.”

“Hermione, I swear, if he hurt you—”

“He didn’t.” She held up a hand. “Look, I’ll tell you, but you need to stay calm and not interrupt.” She looked directly at Ron.

“Fine,” Harry agreed while Ginny closed her magazine and leaned forward.

“First of all,” Hermione said, “there is nothing going on between us. We are not in a relationship. I just want to make that clear. All that happened was . . . we kissed. That’s it. And it didn’t—”

“I can’t believe it!” Ron’s face turned red. “I’m going to kill him!”

“Ron! It’s not that big of a deal—”

“Not that big a deal? He’s using you, Hermione!”

“He’s not using me! This hasn’t benefitted him in any way. His trial’s been postponed and who knows who he has defending him now.”

“Please! He’s probably hoping to get sympathy from the public or something. I knew this would happen! He’s completely underhanded.”

“When did it happen?” Harry asked.

Hermione sighed. “The day you agreed to testify. Right before, actually. I should have told you, but I was afraid you’d react . . . like that.” She gestured toward Ron. “And I didn’t want to lose your testimony. It was wrong, I know. I’m sorry.”

Harry rubbed his brow. “I just don’t understand.”

“We were in the Pensieve, viewing Draco’s memories—of the night at the Manor.” She swallowed. “He stopped her. Bellatrix. He helped me.”

“He did? How?”

“He Stupefied me. His family just thought I passed out. But Bellatrix stopped torturing me and . . . you know the rest.”

Harry nodded slowly. “That was actually really smart . . .”

“Seeing it all again was really hard. Draco tried to get me to leave the memory, but I felt like I needed to see it. We were both very emotional. And then when I found out what he did . . . it just happened.”

“You mean he saw his opportunity,” Ron grumbled. “Slimy git.”

“Ron! It wasn’t like that.” Hermione shook her head. “It was . . . genuine.”

“Right,” Ron scoffed. “As if anything about him could be genuine.”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Hermione said, then looked down at her hands. “I don’t know . . .”

“What!?” Ron slammed a fist on the coffee table. “I don’t believe this!”

“Ron, just calm down, it obviously doesn’t change anything—”

“Calm down?! Do you even hear yourself right now? He’s completely tricked you and you don’t even care! You could have lost your job because of him!”

“Ron,” Harry began, but Ron immediately cut him off.

“And you’re almost just as bad! Agreeing to testify for him. He deserves to be in Azkaban!” Ron jumped up from the couch and stormed over to Hermione’s fireplace. He threw down a huge handful of Floo powder, leaving an angry green cloud behind him.

“Well,” Ginny said, “that went . . .”

“Terribly,” Hermione finished for her.

Harry sighed. “He’ll calm down. He always does.” He turned to Hermione. “I don’t agree with him, but I do think he has a point. You and Malfoy . . .”

“Harry, please! There is no ‘me and Malfoy,’ all right? I do care about him, and I think he deserves a second chance, but that’s the end of it.”

“If you’re sure.” Harry eyed her dubiously.

Hermione sighed, picked her plate up, and set it on the counter. She no longer had an appetite.

“Neither Draco nor I are solely to blame about what happened between us, but I feel terrible about the way I handled things. I’m afraid this might’ve cost him the chance of a fair trial. It certainly didn’t do anything to help the public’s opinion of him. I just don’t want him locked up because of me.” She turned to Harry. “Are you still going to testify for him?”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Harry said slowly. “But after what you told me about the night at the Manor, I will. Knowing he did that for you . . . it makes me hate him a lot less.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.

Harry got up. “I should go check on Ron. Try to calm him down.”

Ginny nodded. “I’ll stay here and help Hermione clean up.”

After Harry left, Hermione brought the rest of the dishes into the kitchen with Ginny right behind her.

“Don’t,” Hermione said to her friend before she could utter a word.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what . . . Don’t start asking me questions I don’t have the answers to.”

“All right,” Ginny said. “But, Hermione, if you do want to talk to someone about it, you know you can talk to me. I’m not going to judge you, and honestly, I trust your opinion. If you say Malfoy’s changed, then I think he has. And maybe he didn’t even need to change all that much when you think about what he did at the Manor.”

Hermione rinsed dishes in the sink, taking in her friend’s words.

“Do you think he feels the same way about you?” Ginny asked.

“Of course not,” Hermione said.

“Why not? You’re amazing and I’m sure he’s smart enough to realize it. Is he still prejudiced against Muggle-borns?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just, well, it’s Malfoy. He’s not exactly open about his feelings. And I don’t even know how much he lets himself feel. He didn’t even want me to find out about what he did to stop Bellatrix. It’s like he doesn’t want me to believe he has good in him. Like _he_ doesn’t want to believe it.”

“Sounds like he’s scared.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Hermione wiped her hands on a dish towel. “It’s not like there could ever really be anything between us.”

“Why not?”

“Come on, Ginny, think about our past. And you saw how Ron just reacted! Plus, the media would have a field day.”

Ginny shrugged. “They’re having a field day anyway. Might as well give them something factual to write about.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look, I just want him to have a shot at a real life after all this is done. And that wouldn’t happen with me.”

Ginny smirked. “Real life is overrated.”

At that moment, Harry returned through the Floo looking deeply troubled. Hermione and Ginny immediately headed toward him.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“Is it Ron? Is he okay?” Hermione was worried that what she’d told her friends tonight had finally pushed Ron over the edge.

“He’s fine,” Harry said, although he shook his head. “But he says he’s going to testify against Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What did you think of everyone's reactions? I always love to hear your thoughts! Oh, and anyone recognize Steven Carmichael from anywhere? As always, a chapter preview can be found in the following places:Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor, Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor, Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews
> 
> Thank you to everyone who asked for a copy of Desperate Forest to read and review! I can't wait to hear your thoughts 😊. If anyone is still interested in a copy, email me at cece(at)cecelouise(dot)com


	22. Before I Knew You

Draco sat down in his usual spot to see a particularly cheerful Steven Carmichael going over his notes with a huge grin on his face.

"Why are you so happy?" Draco surveyed him. People who were too happy made him uncomfortable.

Steven looked up with his eyes alight, reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, his smile bordering on goofy. "She's amazing!"

"Who is?" Draco frowned.

 _Here it comes_.  _He met with Granger and he's already in love with her._ He cringed. _I'll probably get a toast from Carmichael at their wedding for bringing them together._

"Luna!" Steven's smile somehow grew larger.

"Luna?" Draco asked, feeling confused and far too relieved.

"Yes! I've never met anyone like her. She's so interesting. Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

"Uh . . . I have no idea."

"It's completely unprofessional, I know, but I can't stop thinking about her." Steven pushed his reading glasses back up his nose. "As soon as this case is over, I'm asking her to dinner. Do you have any recommendations where I could take her? I'm not too familiar with the area yet and it has to be somewhere special." The goofy grin returned. "Like her."

"Um, there's a nice place in Diagon Alley called Tres Frais?" Draco suggested hesitantly. He'd been there with his parents many times but couldn't exactly picture Luna Lovegood with her radish-like earrings dining among the other snooty patrons.

"That could work . . . but is it unique enough?"

"I'll keep thinking," Draco said, not at all comfortable with suddenly being his Inquisitor's wingman.

"Please do. So, Harry Potter is still planning on testifying, which is very good news."

"He is?" Draco was shocked. He thought for sure Potter would have backed out after what happened with Hermione. Had she interceded on Draco's behalf? Maybe she wasn't angry with him, after all.

"Yes, I met with him yesterday. It doesn't sound like his testimony has changed. Now there has been one new development."

"What's that?"

"Apparently, Ronald Weasley is testifying against you for the Prosecution. Due to the poisoned mead he drank."

That wasn't good. Ron hadn't been planning on testifying when Hermione was on his case, she had told Draco that. But now? Draco wondered if the Golden Trio had a falling out. Most likely, because of him. He wondered how the extra stress was affecting Hermione. He wished he could talk to her.

"Combining Weasley's testimony with Katie Bell's is going to be much more convincing to the Wizengamot," Steven said. "So, we'll need to work hard on establishing the reason behind your actions in both cases."

Draco nodded glumly, all the while cursing his younger self for his reckless behavior.

Steven glanced at his watch and frowned. "Oh, I have to go. I have a meeting with Hermione Granger in fifteen minutes. She's going to give me the rest of her case files and go over anything important with me."

Draco looked up quickly. "With Granger?"

Steven nodded, stacking his papers neatly.

"Can you tell her I'm sorry about—wait, no, just tell her I hope she likes her new job." Draco sat up a little straighter. "But make sure she knows it's not in a sarcastic way, I do really hope she likes her—no, just forget it." He shook his head. "Tell her I said hi."

Steven stared at him like he had three heads. "Hi? You're sure that's all you want me to say?"

"Yes." Draco scowled.

Steven gave him a knowing smile. "All right, I'll tell her you said hi."

* * *

Hermione paced around her flat, in essence cleaning it, but in reality, she was getting out her nervous energy.

Weeks had passed and it was the evening before Draco Malfoy's trial. What would happen to him? Tomorrow at this time, she'd know.

Today, she'd had her disciplinary hearing at the Ministry and had been cleared of any misconduct regarding her actions as Draco's Inquisitor. While the ruling made her happy, there was still a part of her that mourned the end of her involvement in Draco's case.

She sighed. Her life had felt strangely empty now that Draco was no longer a part of it. She tried to tell herself it was because she had become so invested in his case, but she knew that wasn't it.

She truly missed him.

She missed his sarcastic quips, which more often than not, had her smiling. She missed how he never failed to surprise her with the strange, albeit accurate, things he said. She missed that he never seemed afraid to challenge her, unlike Harry and Ron. She missed seeing the side of the man she never imagined was there—the best part of him—the part that was caring and honest.

She missed their friendship. Just when it had started and how, she couldn't pinpoint. All she knew was he was a part of her life now. So much a part that it didn't quite feel whole without him. She wondered if he felt the same way, or if their time together had just been something he'd accepted because he had to.

The sound of someone Flooing into her apartment startled her and she looked up to see a very troubled-looking Ron.

"Ron!" She hadn't seen him since the evening he'd stormed out of her flat a few weeks ago. "What are you doing here?"

When Harry had told her Ron was planning on testifying against Draco, she'd been angry, but she'd tried to talk to him. Ron, however, had refused to see her, thwarting any of Hermione's attempts at reconciling. Every day, she'd grown more worried that her and Ron's friendship might not recover from this.

"Hermione," Ron said, taking a step towards her. He looked distressed, and Hermione immediately went to him. He was still her friend.

"Ron, what is it? Are you okay?"

She led him over to the sofa and sat down next to him. She could smell alcohol as he took a deep breath and turned toward her, taking her hand.

"I have to tell you something," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is a short chapter! The next one is longer, and the trial will start again (this time for real, I promise :D). Any thoughts on what Ron is there to say to Hermione???
> 
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor, Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor, Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews


	23. Friends Today

As Draco entered the courtroom the next day for his trial, he quickly scanned the crowd. There was only one person he wanted to see, but he knew she wasn’t there.

Sure enough, he saw his mother, Potter, and Luna, like last time, but no Hermione.

On McLaggen’s side of the courtroom, he saw Katie Bell, and his former Slytherin classmate, Blaise Zabini. Surprisingly, he didn’t see Ronald Weasley. Draco hoped he had decided not to testify, after all.

Draco felt a strange sense of déjà vu as McLaggen began his opening statement, looking as pompous as ever. Steven countered with his statement, which was similar to Hermione’s, and soon the trial was in full swing. Testimonies and memories began to be recounted, a horrible tribute to the most terrible moments in Draco’s life.

Luna Lovegood was the first witness called to the stand. Thankfully, she steered clear of mentioning any strange magical creatures and painted a very lovely, although flowery, portrayal of Draco’s inner goodness. Draco couldn’t help but notice how Steven stared at her in awe at her calm, thoughtful answers to McLaggen’s aggressive questions. He half expected Steven to applaud Luna as she stepped down from the stand.

Katie Bell took the stand, and Draco stiffened, averting his gaze as she described the terrible pain the cursed necklace caused her when she’d touched it. McLaggen asked a slew of questions, clearly sparing no detail. An angry hum spread throughout the courtroom as Katie explained how she had spent six months in the hospital recovering from the incident.  

Next, Draco’s mother shared several memories and statements explaining Lucius’s strict pureblood beliefs that he had subjected Draco to all his life. While Draco could hear the pain and emotion in his mother’s voice—so unusual for her—he feared her testimony would not carry much weight because the Malfoys were still so hated.

Following his mother’s testimony, the Prosecution shared Draco’s memory of him taking the Dark Mark, which they had subpoenaed. McLaggen seemed very pleased and paused a moment to relish the disapproving murmurs spreading through the courtroom before calling a new witness to the stand.

“…Mr. Blaise Zabini.”

Draco frowned upon seeing his former Slytherin classmate stroll confidently up to the stand. The two had never been good friends, most likely because they had shared a similar arrogance. Zabini’s dark eyes barely glanced Draco’s way as he turned to McLaggen with an easy smile on his face, looking every bit the charmer.

“Mr. Zabini, how do you know the defendant?”

“We were classmates and roommates our entire time at Hogwarts.”

“I see, and in your opinion, was the defendant a victim of his circumstances?”

“Not at all,” Zabini said, flashing a pleasant smile. His handsome looks had only improved over the years, and Draco knew the crowd was eating up his testimony. “Draco never attempted to hide his views on Muggle-borns or how much he admired his father’s beliefs. He was a Death Eater in the making the entire time I knew him, and I never saw him act or express otherwise.”

“I see . . . and do any specific instances come to mind of the defendant’s fervor to Voldemort’s cause?”

“Yes, at the start of our sixth year—it was after Draco had taken the Dark Mark, although I didn’t know that at the time. He bragged to me and a few other students about having been chosen by Voldemort for a special task. Said his age didn’t matter because all Voldemort cared about was his level of devotion.”

Draco frowned, sensing the glares of so many in the courtroom on him. He remembered the day well—the anger he’d felt about his father’s name being disgraced, and the judgmental stares he had received from so many students when he’d boarded the Hogwarts Express. He had attempted to bolster his pride by telling himself it didn’t matter—that he was above caring what his classmates thought about him, and they’d soon see what he was capable of.

Of course, that had not been how events had played out at all. Instead, he’d grown less confident and more desperate every passing day until the fateful night on the Astronomy Tower.

Knowing this, Steven wisely brought Harry Potter to the stand to share his memory of that very evening. Draco was relieved that Harry seemed to answer both Steven’s and McLaggen’s questions carefully, stating his belief that Draco had not been willing to kill Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower.

Steven moved on to share the memory of Lucius’s tirade at the Manor, after which Harry confirmed that he felt Draco had saved his life by not identifying him to his father that night.

As Potter stepped down, Draco’s hands turned clammy, knowing witnesses for both sides were dwindling, and his fate was about to be decided very soon.

“The Defense would like to call forward . . . Miss Hermione Granger!”

An excited hubbub started throughout the room, and Draco looked up in shock to see Hermione walking confidently up to the stand. He’d had no idea she was there. Why _was_ she even there? Steven hadn’t told him she would be testifying.

Draco couldn’t help but stare at her in wonder, knowing full well there would be pictures of his shocked expression all over _The_ _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow. Probably paired with a caption proclaiming him to be lovesick or some other such nonsense. But he didn’t care. He wished she would look his way.

“Miss Granger,” Steven asked, “could you tell me a little about your history with Draco Malfoy?”

“Of course,” Hermione answered, smoothing her skirt. “We were in the same year at Hogwarts most of my time there.”

“And what was your relationship like during that time?”

“Honestly, it was terrible. He bullied me and my friends.”

“Could you tell me about your encounter with Mr. Malfoy at his family’s home the night of April 10th, 1998?”

Hermione took a deep breath. Draco clenched his fists, feeling pained for her, knowing this was the first time she’d talked about the incident publicly. “Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and I were taken to Malfoy Manor by Snatchers. Draco Malfoy was there. As Harry already mentioned, Draco didn’t identify him to his father . . . but he did identify me and Ron.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me.”

Outraged cries sounded throughout the room. Draco knew Hermione was sacrificing a lot by sharing this story for his sake. Not only was she giving up yet another piece of her privacy, but she was also being forced to, yet again, relive the terrible encounter.

“And did Mr. Malfoy assist in this torture?” Steven asked.

“He did not . . . in fact, he stopped it.”

“How?”

“He Stupefied me. Bellatrix thought I passed out. For a long time, that’s what I thought too. It wasn’t until recently, when I saw Draco Malfoy’s memories, that I knew the truth.”

“And do you think Mr. Malfoy’s actions put him in danger?”

“Yes, I do . . . If Bellatrix had found out, she probably would have tortured or killed him.”

“So why do you think Mr. Malfoy helped you? Were you two friends at the time?”

“No, we weren’t friends. If anything, we were enemies.” Hermione tucked a curl behind her ear. “I think the reason he did it is because, even then, despite everything he’d been taught to believe and everything he’d been groomed to become, he was still a good person. Deep down, he didn’t want to hurt anyone or see them be hurt. He didn’t want me to be hurt.”

“Do you think that the same is true of Mr. Malfoy today?”

She nodded. “I do. With the exception that, today, he is even more aware of the type of man he is and the man he wants to be. He isn’t a threat to anyone, and I am very proud to say, although we were not friends years ago, I do consider him a friend today.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger.”

As Hermione walked back to her seat, she finally looked Draco’s way, sending him a reassuring smile. He couldn’t help but return it.

Everything she’d just said about him—everything she believed about him—filled him with renewed hope. She wasn’t angry with him. She hadn’t forgotten about him. She wanted to be his friend. Perhaps the first real friend he’d ever had.

He kept that feeling in his heart as he stood up.

“The Prosecution calls to the stand, Mr. Draco Malfoy!”

* * *

 

“Mr. Malfoy, do you understand that once you drink the Veritaserum, you will be unable to answer anything but the truth on this stand?” Minister Shacklebolt asked.

“I do.” Draco’s voice rang out clearly as he faced the Wizengamot.

“Knowing this, would you still like to be questioned?”

“I would.”

“Very well, please proceed.” Shacklebolt nodded, and Draco drank the small vial of clear liquid.

Hermione watched nervously as he placed the vial down and looked expectantly at McLaggen.

“Draco Malfoy,” McLaggen said, looking thoroughly composed. “Did you on the night of June 30th, 1997, proceed to the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with the intention of killing Albus Dumbledore?”

“Yes.” Although Draco’s voice was steady, Hermione could see his hands shaking slightly.

“And did you, during that same year, also make two other attempts on his life that almost killed two students?”

“I did.”

“Poor planning and hesitance aside, Mr. Malfoy, do you agree that your attempts at ending another man’s life were premeditated and in line with your beliefs?”

“Yes . . . my beliefs at the time but not my beliefs now.”

Hermione was relieved Draco had expanded his answer, and she could tell McLaggen was annoyed by the way his nostrils flared.

“With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy”—McLaggen waved a careless hand, although his smile was tight— “the court’s job today is to decide whether you are guilty of crimes in the past, not to admire whatever new leaf you claim to have turned over. So, I will ask you again, were your attempts on Albus Dumbledore’s life premeditated and in line with your beliefs?”

“Yes.”

“And did you allow numerous Death Eaters and the vicious werewolf Fenrir Greyback access into Hogwarts that night?”

“I did, but I didn’t know Greyback was going to be there.”

“Oh, so a handful of Death Eaters were perfectly acceptable to set loose on innocent children?” McLaggen raised his eyebrows and turned toward the Wizengamot.

“That’s not what I meant—”

McLaggen turned back to Draco, taking two large steps toward him. “And were you the one to disarm Albus Dumbledore so he was left defenseless in front of said Death Eaters, leaving the late Severus Snape no choice but to end his life?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Now, let’s go back a moment and talk about what led to that fateful night when an innocent life was taken. Tell the court, how did you feel upon first learning that Voldemort planned to initiate you into the Death Eaters?

Hermione silently cursed McLaggen, knowing he was purposely focusing on Draco’s attitude before he had taken the Dark Mark as it would seem most damning to the Wizengamot. She could see Draco trying to fight it but the Veritaserum forced the truth out of him.

“I was excited, but I—”

“Ah, excited!” McLaggen turned toward the courtroom. “That hardly seems like the feelings of someone who was acting under duress.” McLaggen took a moment to appreciate the disapproving murmurs of the crowd before addressing Draco again. “And were you excited at the prospect of killing Albus Dumbledore?”

“No! I never really wanted to kill him. I just thought I had to in order to keep my family safe.”

“But yet, you bragged to your classmates about being given a special task by Voldemort, correct?”

“Yes.” Draco grimaced. “Because I was a cocky teenager trying to impress his friends, and I was embarrassed by my father being locked up in Azkaban.” He looked at his hands. “I was trying to convince myself that what I was going to do was right . . . but it wasn’t.”

“Yet somehow you still devoted almost your entire sixth year to the task . . .” McLaggen’s shrewd eyes scanned the crowd, stopping when they reached Narcissa. “Your mother confirmed that she made an Unbreakable Vow with Professor Snape ensuring that he would help you. Why didn’t you go to him?”

Draco shook his head. “I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone. And it was too risky . . . I had no way of knowing whether Voldemort would still kill my mother if I let Snape do it. She was just trying to protect me by making that vow. She wasn’t thinking of her own safety. She was still within Voldemort’s reach—I couldn’t risk it.”

McLaggen frowned. “But even Dumbledore offered to help you in his final moments. One of the most powerful wizards of all time. Why didn’t you accept his offer? Surely you must have known he could have given you protection?”

“For me, maybe. But not for my mother or for . . . others. There was too much at stake at that point. The Death Eaters were in Hogwarts.”

“Yes, they were . . . by your own hand. So instead of facing the consequences of your actions, you let an innocent life be taken and the safety of the entire school be jeopardized. Surely, you must have known that every student was in danger that night, including your so-called friends?”

Draco shook his head. “I was naive and shortsighted—Voldemort only said he wanted Dumbledore dead. I didn’t even think that students might be targeted until it was too late.”

The sound of a door opening behind her caused Hermione to turn her head. She gasped when she saw Ron slip in and take a seat on McLaggen’s side of the courtroom. McLaggen turned as well, his eyes brightening when he saw Ron.

“No further questions, Minister,” McLaggen said with a smile. He stepped down, and upon returning to his side of the courtroom, talked with Ron in a hushed whisper. Finally, he turned back looking quite pleased with himself.

“The Prosecution would like to call to the stand . . . Mr. Ronald Weasley!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: How do you guys think the trial is shaping up so far? How do you think things look for Draco? Sorry for drawing out the Ron drama! We will finally hear from him next chapter. Chapter Preview is live on my social media with a teaser of Ron’s testimony:  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews


	24. Stranger Things

As Ronald Weasley approached the stand, Draco braced himself. He knew the redhead had many justified reasons for hating him. Years of bickering and ridicule at school aside, Draco had recently made a move on his ex-girlfriend, and it was now being splashed all over the tabloids. Draco knew all too well that hurt pride could make a man do terrible things.

While Hermione and Potter may have just defended him, the fact that one-third of the Golden Trio thought him guilty would certainly complicate things.

"Mr. Weasley," McLaggen said, "could you describe for the court what happened to you the morning of March 1st, 1997, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"I could . . ." Ron said, wringing his hands. "But there's actually something else I'd like to share with the court first."

"Oh?" McLaggen's eyebrows shot up. "And what is that?"

Ron cleared his throat. "I'm an Auror for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"

"And while I'm sure I speak for the entire court when I thank you for the brave work you do every day, Mr. Weasley"—McLaggen smiled pleasantly, but Draco sensed a warning in his tone—"I must request that you stick to the facts pertaining to this case."

"It does pertain to the case," Ron said. "A few weeks ago, my partner and I tracked down Rudolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange's husband. He'd been evading the law ever since his wife's death and Voldemort's defeat. We found him hiding out in Ireland, and in his possession, we found a bunch of Bellatrix Lestrange's memories."

McLaggen frowned. "How is this relevant?"

Ron took a deep breath, looking a little more confident now. "It's been my job to view all these memories. We've learned about crimes we didn't even know Bellatrix and Rudolphus committed and the crimes of other Death Eaters who were working for them."

"I see . . ." McLaggen's whole demeanor suddenly changed. "Are there any memories pertaining to Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, there's one. I came across it yesterday."

"Do you have this memory with you now?"

"I do."

"Minister Shacklebolt, permission to share the memory with the court?" McLaggen turned to Shacklebolt.

Draco turned toward Steven, expecting him to object, but he did not.

"Permission granted," Shacklebolt said.

McLaggen took a small vial from Ron, labeled it as evidence, then tipped it into the shallow basin in the center of the room. This Pensieve was unique in the way that it had two golden rods protruding from the inside of the basin, supporting a large glowing crystal ball. The crystal ball glowed brightly for a moment, then shimmered, revealing the memory to the court.

Draco held his breath, racking his brain for what memory Bellatrix could have about him, feeling sickened by the thought of what might be revealed and what it might mean for him.

The image cleared and Draco saw himself in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. His heart dropped upon seeing Bellatrix standing next to him as, one by one, Death Eaters began filing out of the repaired Vanishing Cabinet. It was the night Dumbledore was killed.

"Well done, Draco," Bellatrix purred in his ear as she curled her long fingers around his arm. His younger self scowled and shifted away from her.

Bellatrix laughed. "Draco, Draco, Draco . . . why the long face? Have you no appreciation for the honor that has been bestowed upon you?" She inhaled deeply. "To be given the task of killing Albus Dumbledore. I do hope you aren't going to disappoint us like your father . . ."

Memory-Draco glared at her, attempting to wrest himself from her grasp. "Don't talk about my fath—"

" _Petrificus Totalis,"_  Bellatrix whispered, and memory-Draco froze.

Bellatrix circled him now, dark eyes boring into him. "The mind is a dangerous thing to leave unprotected, Draco. Did you learn nothing from our Occlumency lessons?" Somehow, her stare became even more intense.

"Having second thoughts, I see," Bellatrix said, reading his mind. "What's the matter, Draco? Too innocent to kill an old man? Let's see what your fears are . . ." She drummed her fingers to her lips as if she were perusing a newspaper. "Scared for your parents . . . how trite. Although, surely, I don't need to remind you what will happen to them if you fail tonight? But what else . . . You see, Draco, the thoughts people keep hidden are far more telling than the ones they keep at the forefront of their brains."

Memory-Draco grimaced upon her further intrusion into his mind and beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

"Oh!" Bellatrix laughed wickedly. "Well, that is unexpected! How delightful . . . Oh, yes, you've tucked it far away in the corner of your mind, but you can't fool Auntie Bellatrix . . . It seems you've got quite a soft spot for a certain Mudblood."

She stopped pacing and slapped him hard across the cheek. "You pathetic boy! USELESS! Just like your father!"

"But . . ." Her murderous look instantly changed to one of crazed determination. "We can't have you disappointing the Dark Lord . . . No, that simply won't do." She lowered her voice, slowly tilting her head to the side. "I see it in your mind, even though you try to hide it . . . You're fascinated by her—Potter's Mudblood. Why, I'd even say you care for her."

She spat at Draco's feet. "You stupid, disgusting blood-traitor! You're a disgrace to your family name! But mark my words, if you fail the Dark Lord tonight—if Albus Dumbledore lives—your precious little Mudblood won't!" She lifted her head, like a dog picking up a scent. "She's here in this school. I'll find her and I'll kill her!"

The final body arrived through the cabinet, the large foreboding form of Fenrir Greyback.

Bellatrix inclined her head toward the werewolf. "On second thought, maybe I'll just torture her and let Greyback have his fun with her . . . he says Mudbloods are quite delicious." Her manic eyes gleamed in the candlelight as she grinned. "Don't worry, I'm sure the Dark Lord will keep you alive long enough to watch."

Bellatrix slashed her wand in the air and released him from the binding spell, then held her wand to his throat. "So, make your choice, Draco! The old man or the girl? Because either way, there will be bloodshed tonight!"

Memory-Draco scowled as he pushed Bellatrix away, then straightened his shoulders and turned toward the door. "Let's go," he said.

Bellatrix giggled, following behind him as the memory faded.

The courtroom filled with whispers and shouts, while McLaggen shot daggers at Ron Weasley. He turned towards Shacklebolt. "Minister, permission to have Mr. Weasley declared an adverse witness."

"Permission granted," Shacklebolt said. "However, the memory he shared will be checked for credibility and, if it passes, will be allowed as evidence in this case."

McLaggen's frown deepened as Ron was escorted out of the room and Shacklebolt announced, "We will take a thirty-minute recess as the Department of Mysteries evaluates the credibility of the memory."

Draco's head was spinning.  _Why did Weasley share that?_

Draco knew Ron could have easily kept quiet about seeing Bellatrix's memory. Things had just gotten even more confusing. First, Hermione Granger had become an unexpected friend, then Potter had agreed to testify for him, and now this?

All Draco knew was if he didn't get convicted, he would owe it mostly to the Golden Trio.

 _I suppose stranger things have happened . . ._  Although, he really couldn't think of any.

* * *

As the Golden Trio met up outside the courtroom while the memory Ron had shared was being evaluated, Hermione threw her arms around Ron. "Thank you, Ron, you did the right thing by coming last night to tell me about that memory and especially by sharing it today."

"I know," Ron muttered, not looking very pleased for someone who had just done the right thing. He extracted himself from Hermione's grasp. "Look, I stand by what I said before. I don't like the idea of you and Malfoy one bit—"

"Ron, there is no 'me and Malfoy'," Hermione said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Yeah, okay." Ron snorted. "But I'm not going to stand in your way. I know you, and you never back down from a challenge. If you think Malfoy deserves a second chance, I know you won't rest until he gets it. That's why I decided not to testify against him." Ron shook his head. "Besides, I know he didn't really try to kill me . . . And let's face it, he might have even saved me from becoming an alcoholic. I haven't been able to touch mead since."

Hermione laughed, then squeezed Ron's hand. "Thank you, Ron."

"What is wrong with us?" He shook his head. "Wasting a chance to take down Malfoy . . . What's next? Malfoy joining us for weekly Quidditch games at the Burrow? Afternoon tea at the Manor?"

Harry laughed. "Stranger things have happened."

"That's for sure," Ginny said, smirking at Hermione.

* * *

"Why on earth didn't you tell me about that?" Steven demanded the moment he entered the holding cell where Draco was waiting the half an hour for the court to decide if Bellatrix's memory would be allowed as evidence.

Draco exhaled heavily. "I didn't think it was relevant."

"Not relevant? You basically had the evilest witch of our time blackmailing you into going through with Dumbledore's murder . . . I'd say that's more than relevant!"

Draco frowned. "Look, it's nonsense. Bellatrix was deranged. Just because she saw Granger in my mind doesn't mean it meant anything."

"It doesn't matter! That is a crucial piece of evidence that you should have told me about."

"I felt guilty, all right?!" Draco swiped a hand through his hair. "I know that's why Bellatrix tortured Granger at the Manor. To punish me." He closed his eyes and said raggedly, "I didn't want Hermione to know. I didn't want her to have another reason to hate me."

Steven stared at him for a long time, then sighed. "Any other skeletons in your closet I should know about?"

Draco rubbed his temple. "That's all."

"Okay, well since it's out it in the open now, I will be addressing it. I can't believe Ronald Weasley of all people was the one to share that. I think it's safe to say he's not planning on testifying against you anymore."

Steven stood up and headed for the door. "Oh, and Draco, take it from a guy who just fell in love for the first time in his life." He looked back, grinning. "If she was on your mind, it meant something."

Steven was out the door before Draco could respond.

_Bloody know-it-all . . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all liked how the Ron scenario turned out! What did you think of Bellatrix's memory? Next chapter, we will hear from Draco under Veritaserum again. Only a few more chapters to go in this story. Thank you all for being such loyal readers! Chapter Preview can be found here:
> 
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor/chapter-previews


	25. The Truth

A half an hour later, court had resumed, and everyone waited to see what Minister Shacklebolt would declare concerning the memory.

“After subjecting the memory of the late Bellatrix Lestrange to testing, the court has established that the memory is credible and relevant. It will be admitted into evidence for this case.”

There was a mixture of cries throughout the courtroom, and Hermione was pleased to see McLaggen frown deeply, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

“Would the Prosecution like to question the Defendant regarding this memory?” Shacklebolt asked.

“Yes.” McLaggen strode to the center of the room, and Draco was given a new dose of Veritaserum.

“Tell me, Mr. Malfoy,” McLaggen folded his hands. “If the court will pardon my language, who was the ‘Mudblood’ that Bellatrix Lestrange referred to in that memory when she read your mind?”

“Hermione Granger,” Draco said.

“And would that be the same Hermione Granger you were seen kissing several weeks ago?”

“Yes.”

Hermione felt her face flush as murmurs broke out through the crowd. Of course, McLaggen wouldn’t miss an opportunity to bring that up again.

“Interesting . . .” McLaggen sneered. “So just when did your obsession with Hermione Granger begin?”

Draco clenched his jaw. “I do not have an obsession with her.”

“Perhaps infatuation would be a more appropriate word then?”

“That is not—”

“Objection,” Steven stood up. “These questions are not relevant. The Prosecution is harassing the defendant.”

“Sustained,” Minister Shacklebolt said. “Inquisitor McLaggen, please limit your questions to topics pertaining to the case.”

“My apologies, Minister,” McLaggen said, raising a hand, “but I would merely like to point out to the court that the defendant has demonstrated unusual behavior towards Miss Granger in the past. He could be a danger to her if he is released.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Shacklebolt said, “do you have any intention of harming Miss Hermione Granger?”

Draco shook his head. “No, of course not.”

“Inquisitor McLaggen, do you have any more questions pertaining to the defendant’s case?”

“No, Minister.” McLaggen narrowed his eyes, then stepped down.

Hermione relaxed slightly as Steven finally approached Draco. However, she bit her lip as she scanned the Wizengamot. McLaggen had been aggressive and convincing when he’d first questioned Draco, just as she expected him to be. She only hoped Steven could do better.

 “Mr. Malfoy,” Steven said, facing Draco, “did you at one time consider yourself loyal to Voldemort’s cause?”

“I did,” Draco replied, his voice slightly shaky.

“And when was that?”

“When I was a child—before Voldemort’s return. Then up until a few days after I actually became a Death Eater.”

“And when did you start to doubt Voldemort’s teachings?”

“When he commanded me to kill Dumbledore.” Draco leaned forward, his voice stronger and steadier. “My doubts increased throughout my sixth year at Hogwarts until the night Dumbledore died. Then I no longer believed at all.”

“Earlier today you told the court that you once felt excited about the thought of becoming a Death Eater. Is that how you felt when you actually took the Dark Mark?”

“No.”

“So how did you feel then?”

“I felt a lot of different things.” Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I was nervous because I didn’t know what Voldemort was going to ask me to do. I was angry because my father had been imprisoned. I felt proud because I was expected to take my father’s place, but I was also worried I would let him down and Voldemort would hurt my mother.” His voice was strained. “Mainly, I was scared because I knew I was at a crossroad and, either way, there’d be no going back.”

Steven nodded. “You mentioned your father twice. Who were you more interested in pleasing, your father or Voldemort?”

“My father,” Draco said without hesitation. “I always wanted to make my father proud. He believed in Voldemort, so I believed in him too.” Draco shook his head. “I proclaimed my loyalty to Voldemort, but really, I was just loyal to my father.”

“And now? Are still loyal to Voldemort’s cause?”

“No.”

“What about your father’s beliefs and those of the Death Eaters? If they rose to power again, would you be inclined to join them?”

“I would not.”

“Why is that?”

“What they believe . . . it’s not what I believe anymore. I don’t want to live in a world based on hate and fear.”

“So, if you were pardoned of your charges, what would you want to do with your life?”

“I’d like to finish my education, if possible. I never attended my last year at Hogwarts, but Miss Granger was kind enough to lend me her old textbooks when she was my Inquisitor—”

A conspiratorial murmur broke throughout the courtroom as if lending someone one’s textbooks was the height of passionately scandalous behavior. Hermione struggled not to laugh as Draco paused to scowl at the crowd.

“I’ve been studying them,” Draco said, returning his gaze to Steven. “Eventually, I’d like to get a job where I could contribute to society.”

Steven nodded encouragingly. Hermione was happy, but not surprised, that Draco’s answers under the effects of Veritaserum matched what she had previously discussed with him when she was his Inquisitor.

“You mentioned Miss Granger,” Steven said. “Could you tell me what Bellatrix Lestrange saw in your memory that caused her to threaten Miss Granger’s life?”

Draco took a deep breath. “Hermione Granger and I had a conversation earlier that day in the Hogwarts library. I was at the lowest I’d been that whole year, sick over what I was going to have to do that night . . . And she said something to me that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t hate me.”

“And why did that stay with you?”

“Because I knew she should have. Everything I’d said and done to her and her friends over the years . . .  I’d just gotten into a horrible duel with Potter a few days earlier and almost really hurt him. I’m pretty sure she even knew I was up to something terrible that year.” He shook his head. “But it didn’t matter. She still didn’t hate me. And then I realized, despite everything I’d been taught to believe about her, all the reasons I’d told myself why I should, I didn’t hate her either.”

“And how did you feel when Bellatrix Lestrange threatened Miss Granger’s life?”

“Terrified for her.” Draco swallowed. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to help her even if I managed to get away from the Death Eaters. There’s no way she would have trusted me enough to listen.”

“Did that threat impact your actions?”

“Yes. There was a part of me that was already resigned to the fact I wouldn’t live past that night. I knew I didn’t have it in me to kill Dumbledore, and I was ready for it all to be over—I just hoped Snape would be able to protect my mother.” Draco wrinkled his brow and stared off in the distance. “But when Bellatrix said that . . . I knew I had to try. It was strange, but I felt like Dumbledore would understand.”

“I see . . .” Steven said gently. “And could you also tell me why you chose to help Miss Granger the evening she was being tortured at your family’s house?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, rubbing his shoulder. “I guess I felt guilty, like Bellatrix was making good on her threat to me the night Dumbledore died.”

“Was that all?”

Draco shook his head. The room fell silent as everyone waited for him to continue.

Draco felt the Veritaserum working in his veins, and having no control to stop them, words spilled from his mouth. “It was because . . . she’s everything . . . everything I could never be. We weren’t friends—I wasn’t even nice to her—but that doesn’t mean I didn’t see her . . . her cleverness, her kindness, her spirit.” He looked down at his hands. “I couldn’t bear to watch her fire be put out. I needed it. I needed her to remind me there was still something good left.”

At his words, Hermione’s heartbeat quickened. Ginny, who was seated next to her, grabbed her arm.

She’d never had anyone say something like that about her before. She never imagined someone would think that about her. Especially not Draco Malfoy, of all people. What was most amazing of all was that she knew he truly thought it. Veritaserum didn’t lie.

When she’d become Draco’s Inquisitor, she had slowly gotten to know him. To move past her resentment and learn who he really was. Now she realized, he’d known her all along.

Looking back, the way he’d kissed her all those weeks ago finally made sense. She’d thought it had been an impulse, a fluke . . . a mistake. But it was none of those things.

It was the truth.

Hermione ignored the buzz of whispers and gasps around her as she continued to stare at Draco. Suddenly, his troubled gray eyes met hers and held. Searching, apologizing even, pulling her toward him until she felt there was no one else in the room but the two of them.

“No further questions.” Steven’s voice broke their connection. Hermione turned to see Steven looking at her as he returned to his seat, a small smile on his face.

Draco was led from the stand as Shacklebolt stood up. “The Wizengamot will now deliberate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What a spot to leave you, right? I'm heading to my social media RIGHT NOW to post a Chapter Preview that will reveal the outcome of the trial. It is obviously a SPOILER, so I will leave it up to you if you want to find out what happens now or wait until my next update 😉. Find me at:  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor (Chapter Previews Board)


	26. I Remember

"If the defendant will please rise," Shacklebolt said.

Draco complied, heart pounding in his chest.

Now was the moment. After countless weeks of waiting, one botched trial, and the lengthy proceedings of today, he would finally know his fate. His mouth felt dry, and he couldn't bear to look anywhere but the wall.

"After careful deliberation, the Wizengamot rules that Mr. Draco Malfoy is guilty of one count of reckless endangerment, and not guilty of all other charges."

There was a mixture of joyful cries, gasps, and angry murmurs throughout the crowd. Shacklebolt continued.

"For his sentence, Draco Malfoy will receive ten years of probation, during which he will be forbidden from using specific spells. All use of his magic will be monitored. Should he complete his schooling and get a job, his probation will be reduced to five years."

Draco sank back into his chair in relief. He couldn't believe it. He'd been facing life and had gotten off with practically nothing. It was more than he deserved.

Amazed, he looked around the noisy room to see his mother crying tears of joy into a black handkerchief. Potter nodded at him, while Steven grinned. Luna Lovegood simply stared over his head dreamily.

Finally, he braved a look at Hermione and felt tears threaten his own eyes as she beamed back at him, hugging Ginny Weasley.

Shacklebolt quieted the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will be escorted back to Azkaban where proceedings will begin for your final release and the details of your probation will be discussed with you." He smiled sternly. "You've been given quite the second chance here; I trust you won't waste it."

"I won't, Minister." Draco nodded, somehow able to find his voice.

"Court dismissed."

With that, Draco was led from the room to begin the first day of the rest of his life.

* * *

As Draco stepped into the summer sunshine, he squinted at the unfamiliar glare. He didn't think it was possible, but he was sure he'd somehow gotten paler during his time in Azkaban.

His mother was by his side, clutching the arm of his black shirt that he had been wearing when he arrived at Azkaban months ago.

"She did it," his mother murmured. "The Granger girl really did it."

Draco nodded. "Well, Steven Carmichael did a fantastic job too. Although, in some ways, Granger and he are frighteningly similar."

"Well, yes, of course, the trial." His mother waved her hand as if that was somehow old news. "But that's not what I meant."

He sighed, knowing his mother was once again speaking in riddles. "What are you talking about, Mother?"

"She saved you, Draco. All this time, she was the one that kept you from going over the edge . . . from becoming what your father wanted you to be. You can deny it all you want, but I know it's true."

"What is?"

"You love her, darling. Oh, I know it wasn't always love, but now . . . it certainly is."

"Mother." Draco groaned. "Please don't start. She's the brightest witch of our age, she isn't going to be interested in an ex-Death Eater on probation."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you heard what the Minister said, you've been given the chance of a lifetime. Don't you dare waste it!"

* * *

A day later, Hermione was making dinner when she was startled by a knock on her door.

_Odd_.  _Maybe it's a Muggle package I forgot I ordered . . ._

"Coming!" she called as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and headed for the door. Her front door didn't get too much traffic these days as even her parents traveled to her place by Floo.

She opened the door to see a very free Draco Malfoy leaning against the doorframe, grinning at her.

"Draco! What are you doing here?"

He held up a large leather bag, straining under the weight of its contents. "I thought I should return these."

"Oh! Well, come in." She held the door open for him.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" he asked once inside. "I would have Flooed, but I'm assuming your Floo isn't connected to the Manor. And I was going to owl, but . . . I wanted to see you."

"I'm glad you came." She gave him a reassuring smile and motioned towards the couch, taking a seat herself.

"I wanted to thank you," Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck as he slid into place next to her. "For everything—being my Inquisitor even after the way I acted, for testifying for me." He took a deep breath. "But mostly for believing in me."

"Oh, Draco, I was happy to . . . really," she said, assessing him as he stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. She'd never seen him look as nervous as he did right now. "Besides, I felt terrible when I was removed from your case. I was afraid I'd cost you a fair trial. After what happened between us, I should have taken myself off the case. But I was scared you'd lose Harry's testimony. It was reckless of me and I'm sorry."

Draco shook his head. "It's not your fault." He cleared his throat and pulled books out of his bag, stacking them on the coffee table. "Anyway, here are your books back. In perfect condition, as promised."

"Good thing," she said and picked one up and placed it in her lap. "Or I'd have set Crookshanks on you."

"Who?"

She motioned her head towards the far corner of her room where a large, squashed-faced orange cat was looking offensively at him.

"Merlin, that's terrifying." He smirked and shook his head. "I knew there'd be a cat . . ."

"What?" Hermione looked up from the book she'd been flipping through.

"Nothing," Draco said quickly. "I think these books saved my mind, by the way. And I spoke with McGonagall. She's agreed to work with me once a week and let me take my N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year so I can graduate."

"That's great! So you don't have to attend Hogwarts, then? Thank goodness—the first years would be terrified of you."

Draco chuckled. "That's probably true."

"Well, if you need any help in between your meetings with McGonagall, let me know."

He flipped the book several chapters forward, then pointed to the page. "Actually, I did have a question about this spell."

"Ah, yes, the wrist motion isn't as circular as it indicates. Here, I'll show you."

Hermione pulled out her wand and demonstrated the spell, then guided Draco's wrist as he did the same. "Good! Anything else?" she asked after Draco demonstrated the spell a few more times.

"Well . . ." he reached for another book. "There was this one thing in Arithmancy."

Hermione laughed and stood up, heading into the kitchen. "Have you eaten?" she called behind her.

"Today?" Draco asked, absentmindedly flipping through pages.

"I meant dinner."

"Oh, not yet." He looked up and glanced at the clock. "I guess it is getting late. I won't keep you."

"Why don't you stay? I have enough for two. I mean, if you don't have any plans . . ."

"Okay . . ." he said uncertainly while Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Okay."

* * *

"This is nice," Draco said a few weeks later. Their study dates had become a regular occurrence. He and Hermione were sprawled out on her living room couch, textbooks spread out in front of them on the coffee table.

"What is?" Hermione gazed at him, bringing a spoonful of vanilla ice cream to her lips.

"This." Draco motioned with his hands. "Having someone to study with. I never had that at Hogwarts."

"It is nice." Hermione nodded, curling her legs underneath her as she settled deeper on the couch. "I would have loved this at Hogwarts too. Harry and Ron never sat down long enough to really study, and I always ended up doing half their assignments for them."

"Ha! I knew it," Draco said. "They wouldn't have lasted a day without you." He gazed at her appreciatively.

"Harry's actually pretty clever." Hermione smiled. "He just usually had other things to attend to."

"Ah, saving the world and all that." Draco leaned back against the couch, placing his hands behind his head, and turned toward her. He really looked forward to their meetings. Usually at the end of the night, they drifted away from the books and talked late into the evening.

"I wish we'd been friends then," Draco said.

"Me too." Hermione looked at him and tapped her spoon to her bottom lip. "You know, that's actually what I wished that day in Azkaban, after I healed you." She shook her head. "You probably don't remember . . ."

"I remember." Draco smiled, gazing at her. Her curly hair fell gracefully around her shoulders, and she looked particularly stunning in the soft blue cotton t-shirt she wore. He noticed a dab of ice cream on her upper lip. "You've got some ice cream there." He motioned to his own lip.

"Oh!" She furrowed her brow and rubbed her face, looking embarrassed. "Did I get it?"

"No." He smirked and leaned in, brushing the spot away with his thumb. When he was done, he let his fingers rest on her chin and stared into her brown eyes.

"How about now?" she asked quietly, gazing back at him with an intensity all her own.

"Not quite," he murmured, then gently brought his lips down on hers. She tasted like vanilla and smelled like new books.

While their first kiss had been intense and desperate, this one was sweet and soothing. Draco tentatively brought his hand to her shoulder and pulled her closer. After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, hoping it could be the start of something more but fearful it never would be.

She nodded. "Yes . . . it's more than okay."

He pulled her back and kissed her again, more surely now. She sighed and leaned into him, bringing her hands up to the back of his neck, gently running her fingers through his hair. Then she pulled away just slightly.

"It's perfect," she whispered.

* * *

"I want to take you out tomorrow," Draco said several minutes later. Hermione was nestled against his chest, wrapped in his arms, as she gazed down at their entwined fingers. His long and pale against hers, delicate and golden.

"Really?" She grinned.

"Yes."

"I'd like that." She laughed. "I guess Rita Skeeter better sharpen her quill."

"Ugh . . . why does she hate you so much, anyway?"

"I trapped her in a jar while she was turned into a beetle—her Animagus—at the end of fourth year, for printing lies about me and Harry." She elbowed him. "Surely you remember, since you put her up to it."

"Oh yeah." Draco laughed heartily, earning him a swift smack on his arm. "Ow! Sorry about that, by the way, but her readers are idiots for believing it. You're much too good for Potter."

She swatted him again, then turned serious. "Skeeter's not the only one," she said. "The press will go crazy seeing us together."

"I don't care," Draco said stubbornly. "I want to do this properly. You deserve it." He paused. "I mean, unless you don't want that . . . I don't really care what we do or where we are, as long as you're with me. I fell in love with you in Azkaban, for Merlin's sake. It's not like that's the epitome of a romantic—"

"You what?" Hermione turned to look at him, eyes wide.

Draco gaped at her, realizing what he'd just said. "I . . ." He took a deep breath. "I love you."

She smiled and squeezed his hand, then settled back against his chest. "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the outcome of the trial and seeing them together again. Do you think Draco’s verdict was fair? Please do share your thoughts! I’m posting the Epilogue right away because I think it is best read with this chapter!


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Make sure to read Chapter 26: "I Remember" before this. I posted them together :)

_2 Years Later_

"Draco Lucius Malfoy _,_ hurry up!" Narcissa Malfoy tapped one of her silver heels. "Honestly, do you want to be late to your own wedding?"

"Coming, Mother." Draco joined her in the hall of the Manor, looping his tie. "Don't worry, we have plenty of time."

Narcissa sniffed, walking up to her son and fixing his tie herself. "Well, I've been waiting a long time for this day . . ."

Draco grinned as he rolled his eyes.

"You look so handsome, Draco." Her stern exterior softened as she evaluated him. "And happy . . . she makes you so happy."

"Yes, she does." For once, he agreed with his mother.

"Just admit it, Draco." Narcissa smiled smugly.

"Admit what?"

"That I was right."

He laughed. "You were right, Mother."

* * *

"Hold still." A very pregnant Ginny waddled up to Hermione and misted her curls with a vanilla-scented spray.

"Perfect," she said, stepping back to evaluate her handiwork.

Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror, pleased at what she saw. Her full curls were partially pulled back from her face, the rest flowing freely around her shoulders. Ginny had artistically done her makeup to make her cheeks appear naturally flushed and her eyes even more bright.

But the main thing Hermione noticed when she stared at her reflection was the way she couldn't stop smiling. The look wasn't new to her. In fact, she'd been that way ever since Draco had come to her flat that evening to return her books.

Ginny sighed. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." She grinned wickedly. "Harry finally has to pay up on the bet we made."

"'What bet?"

"I bet him that you and Malfoy would be married within five years the day you told us about your scandalous antics in Azkaban."

"What?!"

"Steven and I made a bet about it too," Luna said, adding a white gardenia to Hermione's curls. "On our first date. Although, we both bet the same thing."

"Luna, that's not how a bet works," Ginny reproved her.

"Doesn't matter . . . we both won."

"You guys are terrible." Hermione crossed her arms. "I should uninvite you from the wedding."

"Hey!" Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Don't you remember how supportive we were when you and Draco started dating?"

"That's true," Hermione admitted with a smile.

When Draco and Hermione had gone on their very first date, the evening after they'd both confessed their feelings, personal and public opinion had been mixed.

Ginny had been overjoyed, while Harry had been hesitantly accepting. On Ginny and Hermione's insistence that he give Draco a chance, Harry had formed a real friendship with Draco over time.

Ron had been angry, but he'd calmed down eventually, even warming up to Draco enough to allow him to play during the weekly Weasley Quidditch games.

Ron and Draco's bond was solidified when they'd been out with Harry one evening and had a run-in with Cormac McLaggen. McLaggen had tried antagonizing Draco into hexing him, no doubt so Draco's parole would be revoked. Ron and Harry had landed the hexes instead, while Draco managed a swift punch, giving McLaggen a black eye. Ron had great fun recounting the story the rest of the week to anyone who would listen.

Newspapers and magazines had, indeed, gone crazy for the first few months, snapping pictures of the couple whenever they were together in public. Each reporter seemed to have a different slant on the story.

Rita Skeeter had painted Draco as the victim in their relationship, claiming Hermione was only using him to gain knowledge of the Dark Arts and rise to power as the next Dark Lady. Draco had found that one quite amusing.

Others had, of course, said Draco was using Hermione to improve his reputation, predicting the relationship would last less than a year.

Surprisingly, some had become quite enamored with the couple, many citing Draco's words about her at his trial as the feelings of true love. Those articles had been a relief, although Hermione was sure that when she and Draco did have kids, her pregnancy nightmares would be plagued by the many awful mash-up renderings of her and Draco's supposed children.

As all news stories do, eventually the hype died down, and Draco and Hermione were now seen as a new power-couple in wizarding society. Hermione quickly moved her way up to Department Head of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Rumors were currently flying that she was on the fast-track for the next Minister of Magic when Shacklebolt retired.

Draco had officially graduated from Hogwarts the year after his trial and was now in the process of training to become a Healer.

Although things were good for the couple, there were always some who would never accept their relationship, including Lucius Malfoy.

Draco visited his father in Azkaban on a monthly basis, usually returning drained and moody. He always held Hermione extra closely afterward. Hermione knew Lucius spent most of his time berating Draco for his life choices—mainly concerning her, but also for renouncing the Malfoys' longstanding pureblood beliefs.

Once, Hermione asked Draco why he didn't end his visits since they made him so unhappy. He had taken her in his arms and explained that seeing his father reminded him of two things:

One, just how lucky he was to have escaped that fate and now live a life with her—the woman he loved.

And two, how Hermione had believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself. Draco hoped that by doing that for his father, perhaps one day Lucius would find remorse for his actions and a better way of thinking.

Hermione had nodded, kissing her fiancé soundly. From then on, she'd supported Draco's decision, offering him an ear to vent to when he returned angry, and a shoulder to cry on when he returned sad. More recently, he had returned needing neither, and Hermione hoped it was a sign Lucius was building a more positive relationship with his son.

"Time for the dress!" Ginny carefully helped Hermione into her lace wedding gown.

Minutes later, the door opened and Narcissa Malfoy strode in wearing a lavender gown, looking more regal than usual.

"You look lovely, dear." She smiled, taking Hermione's hands in hers. "I told you, you'd see."

Hermione laughed, hugging the stoic woman fiercely. "I never should have doubted you."

Narcissa stepped back, looking flustered from Hermione's open display of affection. She sniffed. "Well, I do hope you'll be giving me grandchildren soon."

Hermione just smiled, taking her bouquet from Ginny, whose eyes had gone wide.

"Oh, yes," Luna said, nodding her head. "Steven and I have another bet."

Hermione's own mother entered the room and swept her in an emotional hug, tears flowing freely, causing Narcissa to clear her throat.

"It's time," she said.

* * *

Draco stood at the altar of Hermione's childhood church, anxiously waiting. He hadn't been this nervous since his trial. Then again, he wasn't even sure he'd been that nervous then.

His nerves weren't from cold feet, as he had never been more certain about anything in his life, but from fear. Fear that somehow this was all a dream, and he would wake up in his cell in Azkaban. He'd been having nightmares like that ever since he'd become a free man.

Draco's heart leaped in his throat as music began playing. Then his best man nudged him in the ribs—proof that this was indeed real—and his nerves settled. The stately church doors opened, and his and Hermione's mother were both escorted down the aisle by Ron Weasley.

Draco's best man stood on his left side—Harry Potter, of all people. If Draco's pompous, arrogant younger self could have looked into the future and seen that, he would have been horrified. Then he'd probably pass out in shock when he learned that Hermione Granger was to be his bride. Especially when she willingly walked down the aisle with no one holding a wand to her head.

Steven Carmichael stood next to Harry, grinning stupidly as the music began to play and his own wife walked down the aisle.

"No Wrackspurts today, I see." Luna smiled at Draco as she passed by him to take her spot at the altar.

Next came a very pregnant, but still stunning, Ginny Potter, smirking at Harry. She mouthed the words, "Pay up," as she passed by.

Then the music changed and everyone in the church stood. The doors opened and Hermione floated in on her father's arm, looking more beautiful than Draco could ever remember. And that was saying something, since his breath was constantly being taken away by her.

As their eyes locked, they each wore a smile mirroring the other's. When she reached him, Draco shook her father's hand and then took her arm. When the priest gave them the signal, Draco began his vows.

"Hermione Granger, as you well know, I spent most of my youth being a complete and utter idiot."

Laughter rang out through the church, including Ron's very clear voice shouting, "Hear! Hear!"

"Now," Draco said, "if I could go back to the day I met you, I would follow you around like a lost puppy until you grew quite sick of me and hexed me."

More laughter, then Draco's expression turned serious. "You were there for the darkest years of my life, and even though you weren't by my side, somehow you were etched into my soul. Even though I didn't realize it until much later, you were the one thing that kept me from keeping on the destructive path I'd been destined for.

"And finally, when that life caught up with me, you fought for me, even though you had no reason to. You believed in me and gave me hope. You showed me kindness when I didn't deserve it, and for that, I will forever be grateful."

Draco paused to catch his breath, his emotion building with every word. "When I realized the depth of my feelings for you, I thought nothing could be more impossible. But I loved you so much, I didn't even care. I was happy to have your friendship, and I would have held onto it for as long as you let me.

"Every day I wake up amazed, knowing you've not only given me that, but your whole heart as well. It's more than I could possibly ask for, but—being the selfish prat that I am—I will take it, no questions asked."

Hermione laughed, taking a moment to wipe the tears that were glistening in her eyes, while Draco went on. "In return, I promise to give you my entire being—all my love, fears, and hopes. I promise I will always stay true to you. I promise I will protect you, even though you don't need me to. And, finally, I promise I will cherish you, even beyond my dying day. I love you, Hermione Granger, more than I ever thought I could possibly love someone."

After composing herself, Hermione reached for Draco's hand again and spoke.

"Draco Malfoy, the day I was chosen to be your Defending Inquisitor, I thought life had taken a most unexpected turn. Then, the day I realized I had developed feelings for you, I thought things couldn't possibly get any crazier. Of course, you proved me wrong on the night you told me you loved me."

She laughed. "At that point, I knew not to question fate anymore and just accept the fact that I loved you too."

She took a shaky breath. "Now the only thing that surprises me is how I thought I couldn't possibly love you more than I did then, but every day, my love for you only grows. You constantly amaze me with your strength, your kindness, and your fortitude. I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you, Draco Malfoy. I promise to be true to you, to defend you, and to stand by your side no matter what other surprises we face."

At her words, Draco squeezed her hand, then hastily brushed back the tears forming in his own eyes. Harry handed Draco the rings and they placed them on each other's fingers, sealing their vows.

After receiving the marriage blessing, Draco pulled Hermione in for a long kiss. Their first kiss of many as husband and wife.

As they stepped out of the church, into the bright summer sunshine, Draco's heart knew a peace it never had before.

They had defied the odds. Somehow, despite insurmountable challenges—their history, their differences, their struggles—they'd come through it all stronger, and most importantly, together.

He smiled at his new wife, grasping her hand in his, as they walked boldly towards their future.

They still had a lot of life to live.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, that's all, my lovelies! Please do let me know what you thought of the conclusion of this story. I may have mentioned this a time or two, but I really do love reading all your comments ;) Thank you to everyone who has shown this story love and support. You guys keep me writing!
> 
> If you would like to read more by me you, check out the following:
> 
> \- If Only in My Dreams: Another Dramione story available under my profile. To get to Harry, a desperate Draco Malfoy abducts Hermione Granger. As the two spend time together, they are forced to reevaluate their opinions of each other. A spirited Christmas love story.
> 
> \- Desperate Forest: eBook available for $0.99 on Amazon or FREE in KindleUnlimited. Book 1 in the Forest Tales Series: Enter a forest full of danger, deceit, and romance . . .
> 
> Princess Roselynn has never longed for adventure. For nineteen years, her life has been safe and comfortable. Until her father is murdered, and she discovers a plot to end her life. Hoping to find protection in the arms of her fiancé, she flees to the perilous Eternity Forest.
> 
> When Roselynn meets the brash Jay, she begrudgingly joins forces with a group of outlaws. Unsure of her new companions, she's especially puzzled by Jay's tough exterior and conflicting actions. Soon, she discovers everyone has their own purpose—and secrets.
> 
> Can Roselynn save her kingdom and be reunited with the man she loves, or will she lose everything to the dark forest?
> 
> What's next for me? I do have another Dramione story in the works (I'm about half-way done writing the first draft). However, I won't start posting until I finish writing it, have it beta'd, and edit it. Follow me if you want to be notified when I start posting!
> 
> I also have a few more books planned for my Forest Tales Series. Book 2, The Jabberwocky Princess, should be released in 2020.
> 
> Follow me on social media if you want to stay up-to-date on all my projects or visit me at CeceLouise.com:
> 
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeceLouiseAuthor  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/CeceLAuthor  
> Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cecelouiseauthor
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> -Cece Louise


End file.
